


Hangover: Mutated

by Aelimir



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelimir/pseuds/Aelimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post XFC. Charles and Erik meet again in New York when they both try to recruit Bobby. Things get complicated when they wake up the next day far away from New York with Bobby missing and no memory of what happened. Not a crack!fic, I tried to keep them in character. Ideas inspired by Hangover 2. Any resemblance to any other work is coincidental.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapters will be much longer, this is just an intro, like in Hangover 2! So here it is, Hangover: Mutated or Never Underestimate a Man in a Wheelchair.

Erik and Charles could be seen on the top of a tall building. The metal manipulator stood with his head bowed, his expression foreignly one of defeat. Charles sat on the stairs with his head in his hands, trying to ease his horrible head pain. "I hate to say this, my friend, but we're screwed."

Erik made no response. They were really beyond words at this point.

Charles's cell phone rang. Grimacing at what he saw on the caller id, he answered it, unusually dejected sounding. "Professor Xavier here," he announced.

"Charles? What's going on? Why haven't you called to be picked up? Is Bobby coming?"

"Hank, it's happening again," Charles said.

"Oh no...I knew I shouldn't have left you with Magneto!"

"We don't know what happened, but, we're screwed."


	2. Yesterday

Yesterday...

Charles wheeled himself up to the front door of a well to do house with practiced ease. Despite Hank's protests, he had insisted on going in alone. Hank would pick him up later. He was trying to recapture his lost independence from before, when he could feel his legs. Besides, there was no need to take Hank, or anyone else, away from their important work for any longer than necessary.

Before he could reach for the doorbell, however, he heard someone coming up behind him. Charles, expecting it to be one of the residents, turned in his chair, beaming, about to open his mouth to make introductions, when his jaw dropped slightly in shock.

Erik Lehnsherr stood before him, or he should say, Magneto. They had met only once since the Cuban Missile Crisis. Their meeting occurred by pure chance in a random bar in the West Coast and was surprisingly amicable at first. Then it grew heated as they tried to convince each other to join their side. When that failed, they got so drunk together that they passed out, or so it had seemed. The next morning, they woke together in a random hotel room five hundred miles away from where they started, with no memory of the night before. Gradually they pieced together what happened. He sure hoped no one at the school would find out the truth about what happened, or he would be forever humiliated and no one would respect him. He'd told Hank enough, though, to satisfy him, but it had been more than enough. Erik, he thought, got the better end of the stick; HE didn't have to see all the nitty gritty details in people's minds that he read, finding out more about their doings than he had ever cared to know, which he kindly hid from Erik, except for the important facts to keep him satisfied. He quickly repressed the details in his mind with a mental shudder of horror. After that, they had agreed that they were a simply disastrous combination and should try not to run into each other anymore, and had parted ways with fond exasperation at their inability to be together or apart.

"Hello, my friend," Charles stuttered out. "What brings you here?" Charles noticed he was still wearing that horrible helmet.

"Recruiting," said Erik. "You?"

"The same," said Charles.

Awkward silence stretched between them.

"I have an appointment. Perhaps you could come back later?" Charles suggested. Not that he really wanted Erik to leave; on the contrary, despite their uncertain relationship status, he was excited to see him. The thing was, it was a delicate situation between Bobby and his parents, who did not realize Bobby was a mutant. Bobby had been hiding it from them, and everyone, and didn't even realize there were more people like him out there. He wanted to help Bobby the best he could, and he wasn't sure if that meant keeping the mutation a secret. Having Erik there would just complicate things unnecessarily.

Erik did not have an appointment, and was just dropping in unannounced, having learned of Bobby courtesy of Emma Frost. By all rights he should let Charles go first. But, he never claimed to be a nice man. "We do it together," insisted Erik.

"Remember last time we tried doing something together?" pointed out Charles. "Do you really think it's a good idea, my friend?"

They both reminisced for a moment. Erik could see his point, but he was a stubborn man, and this was a powerful mutant they were recruiting. "That may be, but come on, Charles...we're just here for some conversation, no alcohol in sight...what could possibly happen?"

"All right," Charles reluctantly agreed. "You are aware that his parents have no idea he's a mutant?"

Emma hadn't said that. Either she had been purposefully malicious, or simply not as good as Charles, he wasn't sure. Maybe even both. "I do now." Erik rang the doorbell, saving his...friend? the awkwardness of leaning over to reach it.

"Thank you, Erik," said Charles politely.

Momentarily, a man opened the door, introducing himself as William Drake. Charles introduced himself and Erik, explaining Erik as 'a friend he ran into who wished to make a counter offer.'

Erik said nothing to deny this, and they were ushered inside. Bobby sat there on the couch, along with his mother, Madeline. Erik would never admit this, but he was glad Charles was there to act as a buffer. He did not enjoy dealing with humans, but he knew to be successful in recruiting he had to take possible feelings in account. That was certainly more Charles's area of expertise.

Especially now. William did not appear at all impressed with them, and Madeline wasn't helping much. They wanted their son to do something worthwhile with his life and they weren't convinced that either of them had anything significant to offer. They had only agreed to meet with Charles because they felt concerned about how Bobby was coping with the recent death of his grandfather. It had occurred to them that sending him away might help.

Bobby just listened to both of them intently. Erik could usually tell when things were going his way or not, but Bobby did not appeared to be more swayed one way or the other or particularly care if he went to a boarding school or stayed home.

Erik saw Charles subtly shift so that his fingers were against his temple. So, he was cheating! Before Erik could call him on it, however, Charles removed his hand and smiled.

"Bobby, how about this. I know a little diner a short distance from here that is very nice. Perhaps we could talk more there? My treat," he said. Charles wanted to talk freely about what the school really did. He didn't feel that it was the right time to introduce that to the parents.

"Okay," said Bobby. "But I would like both of you to come."

Charles glanced at Erik, who smirked triumphantly. Looked like whatever scheme Charles cooked up from his telepathy was backfiring on him.

"Of course," said Charles smoothly. He had really expected nothing less, considering what he'd seen in Bobby's mind - fear and doubt. He didn't really fit in anywhere because of his mutation and his attempts to hide it, but Bobby also hoped that he might fit in better at one of their schools. Erik had made it sound like he was part of a school too, as a cover for what he really did, and was planning on introducing the truth gradually, following Charles's lead for once. He figured if he was going to play nice, now was the time to do it.

Charles called Hank, who came and picked them up. He scowled at Magneto, but reluctantly accepted the metal manipulator's presence at a gesture from Charles. Charles slid into the car, and before Hank could get out and grab the wheelchair, Erik volunteered himself and put it in the trunk. Then he climbed in, and glanced back at Bobby, wondering why he wasn't in the car yet.

Bobby was staring at Hank in surprise. "Nice costume," he said. "I'm Bobby."

"I'm Hank." He glanced at Charles, who nodded in permission. "And it's not a costume. I really look like this."

Bobby looked at Charles and Erik, searching for some indication was this was some kind of joke.

"Get in the car, and we'll talk more," said Erik.

Bobby got in, but before he could reach for the door, it shut by itself. "Whoa - is this a new feature?" he asked in surprise.

"Only if you have Erik in the car," said Charles as Hank drove them to the diner. For a glorious minute, he could pretend that it was back when Erik and he were recruiting for the same side. "Bobby, you are not alone. I know what you can do. We are just like you - mutants."

"You mean..." started Bobby in wonder.

"Yes. I know you can make ice. As you've seen, Erik manipulates metal. Hank here, is all around physically and mentally enhanced. He is a great help to my school, which is a school completely of mutants. There are many people in the world like you, and it is my mission to help them."

"What can you do?" asked Bobby, a bit shyly, his mind reeling from the most wonderful news he'd ever heard. It was like a balm over the wound of the recent death of his grandfather, the only person who'd known about his mutation. His grandfather had accepted it, but they both knew no one else would, so Bobby had never told anyone else, and the secret died with him.

"I am a telepath," Charles admitted, somewhat reluctantly. He knew that tended to make people uncomfortable, so he tried to hide how powerful he really was. He doubted even Erik knew the true extent of his power. "That is how I found you. I have a special machine, created by Hank, that enhances my brainwaves so I can sense mutants."

Erik reflected that he could really use his own scientist so he could make Emma her own Cerebro. He let Charles say his piece, allowing Bobby to recover from the shock of finding out he wasn't alone before making his own offer. Having gone through that same shock himself, he knew what a monumental moment it was.

"You can read my mind?" said Bobby, still in too much shock to decide if that was awesome or unnerving.

"I will not read your mind without your permission," promised Charles.

Erik held back a snort. He knew Charles wasn't above taking a quick surface peek now and then. But, he didn't say anything. Charles, he knew, for all intents and purposes, would keep his promise. He was very scrupulous, ethical, and moral about his telepathy, far more than Erik would be in his place. Anything less would horrify the pacifist. Still, he kept his helmet on. They were on opposing sides, and though he doubted Charles would induce him to do anything, since that wasn't Charles's style, he wanted to be extra sure his plans stayed secret from the telepath. Besides, one never knew when Emma might show up unexpectedly, and he didn't want her in his head either.

Bobby seemed to accept that, and their conversation was cut short as they arrived at the diner.

The four of them sat around the table, Hank and Bobby one one side, and Charles and Erik on the other. Hank, rather stone faced at first because of Erik's presence, gradually warmed up when he realized that Erik at least planned on being civil. Still, he kept a sharp eye on Erik the entire time, not trusting him for a moment.

Charles glanced at Bobby's hand, and noticed that he wore a ring. "That's a very nice ring you have there - is there a special meaning for it, like a class ring?"

"No, it's my grandfather's ring. He just passed away," explained Bobby. "He was the only person to know of my mutation."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but it's nice that you have the ring to remember him by," said Charles.

"Yes, I always wear it now," said Bobby.

A pretty blond waitress came to take their orders for drinks. Bobby took ice water (no surprises there), and Hank, who had recently come of age, took a beer. She stared at Hank curiously for a moment, but seemed to come to the conclusion that he wore a costume, like most people did in the rare event he appeared in public.

Charles met Erik's eyes across the table. "One, only one beer each, all right?"

Erik, considering again what happened the last time, relented. "All right. Just one beer each," he told the waitress.

She wisely didn't inquire, and returned with their drinks a few minutes later.

"Something happen last time you two drank together?" asked Bobby curiously. His eyebrows raised slightly when he saw the three of them grimace.

"You could say that," said Erik. They refused to say anything more about it, so Bobby didn't press. Erik figured this was a good time as any to say his piece. "Charles's school is a great opportunity," he allowed. "However, I believe he is short sighted." Erik went into his usual spiel about his plans for the future and the reasons for them as their food arrived, extending his invitation to join the Brotherhood. Bobby listened intently. Like before, Erik couldn't tell if which way the young teenager would go. He did not seem any more approving of his plan than Charles's. He didn't press, though, allowing him the time to make the decision on his own.

Charles didn't interfere and waved Hank off when he tried to. Erik would find one way or another to talk to Bobby. He felt it was best if it could happen now, when he was there to argue his own point, than some unknown time in the future when he wasn't around.

After awhile, Charles sent Hank on his way. It was decided that the three of them (Charles, Erik, and Bobby) would stay the night together at a hotel nearby, so he could have time to throughly question them and make a decision without his parent's interference. Since Bobby did not hang out with friends often, his parents were happy to let him stay with them when Bobby called them on his phone to ask. Hank was reluctant to leave the professor with Magneto, but obediently left, telling him he'd be calling regularly to check up on him.

They would also need to decide the best way to tell Mr. and Mrs. Drake about Bobby's mutation. They might be more inclined to let him go if they knew the truth. However, they decided to worry about that later.

Before they could leave for the hotel, which Bobby was quite eager to get to so he could show off his talent for the first time since his grandfather died, the waitress came out again, bringing them all dessert - ice cream for Bobby, pie for Erik and a cake for Charles.

"We didn't order this," said Charles.

"I know - we had some extra and it's on the house - we don't want it to go to waste."

The three of them eyed their respective desserts as the waitress left.

"How about we all share?" suggested Charles.

They all agreed, and in the end they each had a bit of cake, pie, and ice cream. Erik and Charles drank down the rest of their beer, and what little remained of Hank's, wishing they could have more, but knowing that it wasn't wise.


	3. The Next Morning

_The next morning..._

 

The first thing Erik was aware of was his pounding head, the feel of a mattress underneath him, and the atypical sensation of someone breathing into his neck. The next thing he realized that his helmet was missing and the very real possibility of Charles being nearby. Erik cracked his eyes open and turned his head slightly. Charles was nearby all right - he was practically on top of him! Determined not to wake the telepath, he glanced all around for his helmet.

 

It was nowhere in sight. He glanced at Charles's too innocent face suspiciously. The last thing he remembered was being at the diner, trying not to laugh at one of Charles's comments. Had Charles used his telepathy against him? Was this some sort of trap or scheme against him?

 

But, that didn't make sense. His helmet, he was sure, had been firmly on his head, and there was no way Charles could have gotten it off, because Erik had welded it to his head with his powers after an unfortunate altercation between himself and Emma. Emma had expressed her disagreement at Erik's plan to leave Charles alone, even though Charles was a significant hindrance to their plans. She had even wanted to go so far as to kill the other telepath. Erik had told her that mutants do not kill mutants, and Emma called him a hypocrite, apparently still holding a grudge about the Shaw incident. Still, he had thought he could trust her, and he didn't think anything of taking off his helmet. She took that opportunity to telepathically attack him in attempt to take over, as a way to assert her powers and gain respect from the rest of Erik's followers. Fortunately, Riptide was more loyal to Erik than Emma, so he knocked her to the ground unexpectedly with one of his tornadoes, and Erik managed to get his helmet back on before she recovered. He still needed a telepath though, and he wanted to keep an eye on her, so he didn't send her away. After that, he never took his helmet off, and made sure it was on quite securely, the metal molded to his head with his powers.

 

So, he had to have taken it off himself. Besides, if it was a plot of Charles, why in the world were they in bed together, practically snuggling? To top it off, Erik really didn't think Charles would do anything underhanded such as this, especially after what happened last time they were together. Erik knew that Charles had come as close to being traumatized as he'd ever seen him and he sincerely doubted that he would do anything that would risk a repeat.

 

Something odd caught the corner of Erik's eye, and he shifted quickly to face Charles. Not much shocked him anymore, but the sight of his friend's tattooed face made his eyes bulge out slightly in surprise. "Charles? What the fuck?" he muttered quietly. Speaking loudly hurt his head. He continued to stare at his friend's face in shock. Charles was definitely not the tattoo kind of person - that was more his arena. What the hell had happened, between the diner and however they ended up in bed, that he'd gotten tattooed? Wouldn't Erik remember something as notable as that?

 

And, what the fuck anyway? He had _one_ beer, well one and a quarter anyway. They had made sure of that. Not enough to get drunk, much less have a hangover the next day or memory loss. He hadn't felt this awful even when he'd had a full case of beer the last time they were together and couldn't remember what they had done the night before. Come to think of it, they had ended up in bed together that time too. With dawning horror, Erik wondered if this was a repeat of what happened before, despite their seemingly flawless plan of not drinking enough to get drunk.

 

Thinking hard was only hurting his head and not bringing any answers. Maybe Charles remembered what happened. Yes, Charles would know. He reached over and gently shook the telepath awake. Despite not having his helmet, he decided he trusted Charles. Strange how he trusted his...enemy? more than he trusted the telepath that was supposed to be his ally.

 

Charles woke with a pained moan that caused Erik to quit shaking him abruptly. Despite everything between them he still couldn't stand to see his friend in pain. "Charles! Charles. What happened last night?"

 

Charles blinked in confusion before abruptly shutting his eyes against the pain. His head hurt horribly. It was the worst headache of his entire life. "Erik? What are you doing in my bed?" he asked, his brain not awake enough yet to reason out his current situation.

 

"I could ask you the same thing," said Erik, suddenly realizing that they were both naked to boot.

 

Charles frowned in concentration, remembering. "Oh yes, our recruiting mission. We went to a diner, and then..."

 

"And then?" Erik prompted eagerly.

 

"I'm sorry, but my head hurts terribly. I simply can't remember anything after finishing the beer and dessert."

 

Erik groaned inwardly before reluctantly delivering the bad news. "I can't remember either."

 

Charles looked at him properly for the first time, directly in the eyes. He looked slightly alarmed. Erik couldn't blame him.

 

"What happened to your helmet?" asked Charles.

 

"I don't remember that either," said Erik.

 

Charles sat up with a groan, holding his had. "Bobby, Bobby, where is Bobby?" he wondered.

 

Erik glanced around. "Good question."

 

Charles made to get up, albeit slowly. Then he noticed a metal ring on his hand that certainly hadn't been there before, and glancing over, he noticed a similar one on Erik's hand. "Where did these come from?" he asked Erik. He was the metal expert after all.

 

Erik looked equally puzzled. "I have no idea."

 

Charles decided not to worry about it right now. "I'm going to see about some clothes, and wake Bobby up, if he's in here somewhere."

 

Erik put a hand on his arm, stopping him. "Charles, you're going to freak out, but it's going to be okay."

 

"I'm sure we'll find him," said Charles, with far more confidence than he felt. His head was swimming with trepidation due to what happened last time he was in this situation.

 

"No, I mean - when you look in a mirror. It'll be okay. I'm sure you can get it lasered off - "

 

"WHAT?" said Charles with alarm, sliding into his wheelchair which was thankfully by the bed in one piece, then gripping his head as he struggled to where he presumed the bathroom was.

 

Erik followed him in.

 

Charles was staring into the mirror, his horror overcoming his headache for a brief moment. "What happened to my FACE?" he exclaimed. There was a fancy tattoo on one side of his face that extended from his eyebrow to his chin. To top it off, when he glanced down he discovered another tattoo over his heart - EML.

 

Charles, hoping Erik didn't see that one, quickly covered it up with his hand. "I'm getting some clothes on," he announced, hurrying out and looking around. There had to be something he could wear, somewhere! As he moved around, he felt aches in areas and muscles where he really shouldn't, just like last time. He hadn't told Erik about it then, however, and he sure wasn't going to now. He glanced at his friend. He'd seen him naked before, certainly, but every time he did, he felt punched in the stomach in more than one way. Erik's scars were a truly disturbing reminder of the reality of the agonies he'd suffered under Shaw and the Holocaust.

 

Erik, unaware of Charles's brief scrutiny, joined him in his search for clothes. Bobby didn't appear to be in the immediate vicinity, so they probably would have to search around for a bit, and he didn't fancy doing it naked. The young teenager was most likely taking advantage of a continental breakfast or something.

 

A strangled cry of "Erik!" interrupted his search for clothes and he rushed to Charles's side, who was staring at a glass with a finger in it.

 

"Erik, that's - that's Bobby's finger! I know it is, I recognize the ring!" Charles met his gaze, his face stricken. "He would never willingly leave the ring behind, you know how much it meant to him!"

 

"We'll find him," Erik said reassuringly, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach. This wasn't looking good. If Bobby had lost his finger, he doubted he would have left the room. Erik knew from extensive experience with Shaw that those kind of injuries were very painful. He'd never lost a limb, but he thought that would be very traumatic for the young teenager and he didn't think the boy, who already felt self-conscious because of his gift, would want to go out in public by himself with a missing finger, something that would only make him stand out more.

 

Charles renewed his search for clothes with urgency and found a truly hideous goth outfit covered in metal pieces, but to his relief, he also found a suit to wear, so he chose that, and struggled to get it on as Erik also found and put on another suit. Before they could leave the room, however, Charles almost ran over a body that was beneath a blanket.

 

Erik ripped off the blanket eagerly, hoping to find Bobby. Instead, he found a strange Chinese looking man and, of all things, a monkey. Erik shook the man impatiently. If this man knew where Bobby was, or anything that happened last night, he'd get it out of him one way or another.

 

The man introduced himself as Mr. Chow. Erik waved off the pleasantries impatiently. "What happened last night? Where is Bobby?"

 

"Oh, that kid that was with you? With the icicles?"

 

The two mutants nodded eagerly.

 

"He had a great time. He was just as smashed as you were. I personally couldn't decide if I was rockin' or terrified. All those weird things happening with metal and ice, and I've never seen so many people act so crazy around me! I think I took too big a dose."

 

"Dose?" said Charles, not liking the sound of that.

 

"Yes, dose. In fact, I'm due for another one," said Chow, taking pot out of his pocket.

 

"Charles. Read his mind," Erik hissed. Now was not the time to be scrupulous. They needed to find Bobby quickly and he felt the telepathy would get a more accurate story than this man could tell him. He was obviously some kind of junkie.

 

Charles reluctantly nodded, and pressed his fingers to his temple. Then he fell out of his wheelchair, howling in agony.

 

"CHARLES!" Erik cried, immediately pulling his friend into his lap. He turned towards Chow. "What did you to do him? Did you 'dose' him?" He asked venomously, preparing to reach for Chow's metal necklace with his mind.

 

"No, I don't share my doses! I didn't do anything to him! You're the one that was doing things to him, I really don't care to repeat." Chow looked genuinely horrified at the thought.

 

"What about Bobby? Where is he?" Erik demanded a second time.

 

"I don't know. You ask too many questions." Chow took the dose.

 

Erik tried to choke Chow with the necklace, but when he tried, nothing happened beyond a quick squeeze, and he was unable to continue because he was then consumed by most horrible pain. He collapsed beside Charles on the floor with a tortured moan. To make things worse, the monkey began poking him relentlessly.

 

Charles, now starting to recover, gestured the monkey to come over to him in hope that it would leave Erik alone, which it did, climbing onto the telepath's shoulder quietly. Erik glared through his pain. Stupid monkey, why did it like Charles better than him?

 

When the pain finally subsided somewhat, Erik struggled to a standing position, then helped Charles back into his wheelchair. They turned their attention back to Chow, who now was slumped over. Erik walked over and pressed his fingers against his neck, checking for a pulse. "He's...dead," said Erik with some alarm. The one person who might be able to answer their questions about last night, was dead!

 

"Neither of us seem to be able to use our powers at the moment, and we don't want to be caught with a dead man," Charles reasoned. "We have to hide him."

 

"There's most likely an ice machine we can stuff him in," agreed Erik.

 

Ice reminded them both of Bobby. "We'll look for him on the way," said Charles.

 

Erik draped Chow across Charles's lap, then pushed them both outside. However, they discovered the power was out, and of course Charles couldn't use the stairs. Erik picked up Chow and left Charles, who decided to search the floor for Bobby while he waited for Erik to come back, the monkey still on his shoulder. As he searched, he thought back to his tortuous attempt at telepathy. His reaction was unprecedented. He'd been a bit drunk many times and had never lost his ability to use it, much less be in such extreme pain from attempting it. He must have ingested something a lot more potent than alcohol. But what, and when?

 

Erik returned, interrupting his thoughts, and Charles knew the deed was done.

 

"There's no sign of Bobby," said Charles.

 

"Did you manage to get anything from Chow?" asked Erik.

 

Charles had gotten a brief second - a couple shocking mental images of him and Erik, and what they had been doing, weren't something he was going to share, (they didn't really explain anything they wanted to know, anyway) but he did have another, equally shocking tidbit to share. "Yes, a brief second. According to Chow, we're not in New York anymore." Charles steeled himself. "We're not even on the same continent. We're in Bangkok."

 

"Bangkok?" said Erik. "You mean, as in _Thailand_?"

 

"Yes, Bangkok, Thailand!" repeated Charles, gripping his head again as his headache intensified.

 

Erik groaned. "Charles, you were right. I'm never having a 'simple conversation' with you again."

 

"Don't start that now! We have to figure out what happened! And more importantly, we have to find Bobby!"

 

They agreed that the best place to start would be to talk to whomever ran the hotel and search the building. Erik carried Charles down the stairs, who submitted to this with good grace, then left him to do the questioning in his wheelchair, while Erik did the looking around.

 

An hour later, Erik met Charles at the entrance of the hotel. He'd found nothing. Charles had not gotten much out of anyone, either, except that they had come there very late the night before, totally smashed and at that point, Bobby had been with them. Nobody seemed too keen to talk to him, looking nervous. Charles wondered why. Surely a man in a wheelchair was about as non-threatening as you could get? A few people told him that if they couldn't find Bobby, Bangkok had him, so there was no use looking further. Charles, of course, had no intention of giving up.

 

At a loss of what to do, they decided to venture out to the town to see what could be found out. Erik pushed Charles along the busy street, his eyes constantly searching for clues. Charles stopped someone every so often to ask about Bobby, but no one seemed to have a clue what he was talking about.

 

Then they turned down a street that appeared to have been hit by some kind of disaster. Erik struggled to make his way through, trying to piece together what was going on. He didn't like the implications of what he was seeing. Charles craned his head around and met Erik's eyes. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, my friend?"

 

"Everything that is destroyed is made of metal," said Erik. "And there's no scorch marks."

 

"Apparently we still had use of our powers when we were smashed," concluded Charles, his stomach sinking further. He wasn't sure he wanted to continue. He wouldn't have, if they hadn't needed to find Bobby. Twisted metal was one thing, but what about him? A smashed, crazed, powerful telepath was no joking matter. What sort of damage did _he_ do last night? He really didn't want to know. He hadn't used his power much last time, but what about this time? They had certainly got into a much bigger mess. It wasn't looking good.

 

The faces around them suddenly turned rather hostile, as they seemed to recognize them. "Run for it, Erik," suggested Charles.

 

"I'm not leaving you behind!" growled the German, annoyed with his friend's martyr complex. His eyes caught the sign of a tattoo shop. They had obviously been this way last night. Maybe that's where Charles got his face mutilated. He hurriedly pushed his friend inside.

 

A tall, bearded, heavily tattooed man greeted them jovially. "You again!" he said. "Want me to do the other side of your face now?"

 

"So, this is where I got my...tattoo?" said Charles, feeling some relief. Maybe now they would get some answers.

 

"Yes! You were so excited about it! Until I started doing it, of course, then you howled like a baby! This kid here has more balls than you do!"

 

Indeed, the rather stoic kid sitting there did not seem to be at all bothered by the process of getting tattooed.

 

"Here, I even have pictures! I haven't had this much fun with a customer in a long time!"

 

Erik peered over Charles's shoulder as he looked at the photos. The man had indeed taken several embarrassing pictures of the two of them. Bobby was there as well, looking well at least and having the time of his life. He still had his finger at that point. Chow even appeared a few times. Charles transferred the pictures to his phone so he could study them for clues. As little as he wanted to study pictures of him crying as he was tattooed. He quickly scrolled past the one of the man doing the EML tattoo. That really wasn't important, so Erik didn't need to know, right?

 

"So what happened last night, out here?" asked Erik.

 

"It was pandemonium! Metal flying everywhere, ice statues and icicles, and the whole street dancing, screaming, and singing! I've never seen anything like it! And the fights! So many fights broke out. You and Charles even danced!"

 

"I danced?" asked Charles dubiously.

 

"Yes! Don't know how you did it...let's see...here it is! You were wearing this!"

 

He pulled out a shirt, pants, and shoes that were made of black fabric, but totally covered in metal pieces - chains, buttons, fringe, and the like. Erik and Charles's eyes met. For the first time, Charles wished he could remember what had happened. He sure missed dancing, and, somehow, right now dancing with Erik struck him as appealing. As strange as that was.

 

They took the outfit. It certainly wasn't something Charles would ever wear sober. It was a hideous monstrosity, like Charles had found in their room, something that would belong on a goth, not a distinguished professor that graduated from Oxford. Erik quickly searched its pockets for clues, but came up with nothing but a receipt. When he saw what else what on the receipt, he quickly stuffed it in his own pocket. He'd never told Charles, but he did remember brief fragments of their last crazy night together, the one where they had stayed in America at least. He remembered them getting rather raunchy in bed, and, judging by what he had bought the night before, it looked like it might have happened again. What Charles didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "Nothing new," Erik told Charles truthfully, when he asked. Technically that was true, it had happened before so it wasn't anything new.

 

"You sure you don't have any idea of what may have happened to Bobby?" asked Charles one last time.

 

"Nope, and if you haven't found him by now, Bangkok has him," the tattoo artist informed him seriously.

 


	4. Monks and Strip Clubs

There was nothing more to be learned from the tattoo artist, so they cautiously left the place, venturing back out onto the street. They only thing they could do now was continue to piece together what had happened the night before and hope it would lead to Bobby.

However, nothing could be gleaned from anyone, and Charles cursed his inability to use his telepathy. They decided to regroup at the hotel. "Did you search the roof?" asked Charles desperately.

"No," admitted Erik. He carried his friend up the stairs and sat him down at the top, while he searched, but came up with nothing.

The metal manipulator stood with his head bowed, his expression foreignly one of defeat. Charles sat on the stairs with his head in his hands, trying to ease his horrible head pain. "I hate to say this, my friend, but we're screwed." Bangkok was a huge place, and without their powers or any leads, how would they find Bobby?

Erik made no response. They were really beyond words at this point.

Charles's cell phone rang. Grimacing at what he saw on the caller id, he answered it, unusually dejected sounding. "Professor Xavier here," he announced.

"Charles? What's going on? Why haven't you called to be picked up? Is Bobby coming?"

"Hank, it's happening again," Charles said.

"Oh no...I knew I shouldn't have left you with Magneto!"

"We don't know what happened, but, we're screwed. We're in Bangkok, Thailand, and Bobby is nowhere to be seen."

"Thailand?"

"Yes, Thailand. Don't ask me how we got here, I have no idea. Hank, is there any way you can use your computer and see if you can find any trace of what happened to us, and more importantly, Bobby?"

"Yes, I'll see what I can do," promised Hank. "I'll call the moment I find something."

"And Hank? Why are you fine? Didn't you drink that beer too?"

"Yes, I drank it."

"Don't you have a headache?"

"No, I'm normal. Why, do you?"

"Yes, it is the worst headache ever, I can't use my telepathy, and Erik is having trouble manipulating metal."

"Are you going to be okay?" asked Hank. "Do you want me to get the Blackbird and take you home?" He hated to think of the crippled professor powerless in the hands of Magneto, in the middle of Bangkok, no less.

"No, no, I'm sure Bobby is here somewhere, we have to find him first. Just see what you can find out, please, Hank."

"All right. By the way...have you heard the news?"

"What news?" asked Charles, confused. "I haven't had time to check on any news, I've been too busy trying to find Bobby."

"Air Force One completely disappeared yesterday."

"What? Did someone kidnap the president?" asked Charles in alarm.

"No, no...that's what's weird about it. Nobody was kidnapped or even hurt. The last thing anyone remembers was the security cameras spontaneously being destroyed. Then they all blacked out, and woke up a few hours later. The only thing missing was the airplane. Nobody remembers detecting it on the radar. It's like it disappeared into thin air."

"That is all very interesting Hank...do you believe that mutants were involved?"

Erik turned towards him then, interested.

"Yes," said Hank. "Charles...I hacked into the CIA. They have Emma Frost. She was found outside a wrecked gate, unconscious. She's in a coma, and they don't think she's going to come out of it. They think it's from some kind of psychic shock. So the official word is terrorists, but the CIA people are looking for mutants."

"I'll investigate it how I can," said Charles, suspicions running rampant in his mind. "Please investigate Bobby and let me know immediately if you find something."

"Ok, professor."

No sooner had Hank hung up, when Charles's phone rang again, interrupting his plans to confront Erik about Emma. His heart sank as he realized it was the Drakes. "It's the Drakes, Erik, what am I going to say to them?"

Erik yanked the phone from Charles's hands. "I'll handle it," he said. "Erik Lehnsherr speaking," he said, as he took the call. "Yes, everything is fine...we just decided to take a little road trip. Fishing. No, I'm afraid Bobby isn't up to speaking right now...he's a little...seasick. No, no, he'll be okay... Yes, we'll have him back in time for him to go to school. Don't worry about it...I need to go now, yes, check back in later. Bye."

"Erik!"

Erik cut him off, sensing a lecture. "Can it, Charles. We'll find him, and they'll be none the wiser. It's better this way, trust me."

Charles did not agree with lying to Bobby's parents, but did not argue. He had more pressing concerns to present to Erik. "When were you going to tell me that your team stole Air Force One yesterday?"

Erik looked very surprised, but Charles wasn't sure he bought it. "What? It was stolen? Why do you think I'm behind it?"

"Emma Frost was found just outside a damaged gate near it, unconscious. She is now in a coma. Hank says they don't think she'll come out of it."

Erik stared at him, his expression not changing when he heard the news. He had no love for Emma, but she was on his team, and he didn't want to lose her. "Where is she?"

"The CIA has her."

Erik quietly processed this. There was nothing he could do for her right now. He would have to remove her as soon as he could, though, so they wouldn't be able to experiment on her. The less information the government had on mutants, the better. But that would have to wait until after they found Bobby. He couldn't contact Azazel without the device in his helmet, anyway, and that was nowhere to be seen either.

"Why did you have your team steal Air Force One?" Charles was a little miffed. The airplane had been the star in many of his childhood fantasies and he didn't appreciate someone taking and probably destroying it.

"I didn't! I have no idea why Emma was there, she was supposed to be in Europe," admitted Erik, annoyed. If she'd just followed his orders, maybe she wouldn't have gone and got herself in a coma. But, maybe she had a good reason. Maybe she had found a powerful mutant, and was fighting him or something. But, why would she fight to stop Air Force One being taken? In his mind, it was good riddance. He didn't think she would care either. It didn't make sense. "I don't know who would do this. It doesn't make sense. There must be someone else out there we don't know about."

"We'll talk about this later," said Charles, unaware of how much he made it sound like they were an old married couple. He didn't want to believe that it hadn't been Erik's fault, but Erik had no reason to lie. As if he had enough to worry about right now, it was possible there was a powerful mutant running amok that was further damaging the relations between mutants and humans. He would have his work cut out for him when he got back to the mansion.

A few minutes later, Hank called back. "I found him, professor!"

"You did? That's wonderful Hank, you're a lifesaver!"

"He's in jail. I have the address. It isn't for anything major, in fact you could probably pick him up right now and they'd let him go." Charles took the address and thanked Hank profusely before hanging up.

Charles beamed at Erik. "Erik, Hank found Bobby! He's in a jail, not too far from here!"

Erik took the address, then carried Charles back down to his wheelchair and pushed him down the street towards the jail.

When they arrived, Erik let Charles do the talking while he stood around, doing his best to look intimidating (which wasn't hard). Before long, another man was wheeled out in a wheelchair who they claimed to be Bobby.

"But, this isn't right!" Erik spoke up finally, in frustration. "Bobby is much younger, and he can walk!"

"He has his id," the cop explained, bored. He held out a wallet.

Erik took Bobby's wallet, which indeed had the id. "Look at this!" he insisted, pointing at the picture. "Does this look anything like him?"

"We are very busy here, especially after what happened last night, and do not have time to check everything. As far as we are concerned, this is Bobby and we are releasing him to you. As for as anyone else, if you haven't found them, Bangkok has them."

Then, they were left with the silent, elderly man. After trying to ask him questions, they figured out that he was a Buddhist monk who had taken a vow of silence.

"Why do people keep saying that? Bangkok has him?" wondered Charles, his mind going back to what the cop had said. He sure didn't like the sound of that. He brought up the pictures from the tattoo artist on his phone, and indeed, now that he was looking for him, he could see the monk in a few of the pictures. So, he knew more about what happened!

Erik wanted to start questioning the man right away, but knew doing it at a police station wasn't the wisest idea, especially if he had to resort to his favorite methods. So they would have to wait until they returned him to the monastery. He eyed the two wheelchairs. He obviously could not push them both at the same time. He was feeling a little better though, enough to use his power a little. His thoughts drifted again to the goth outfit. Somehow, he had made Charles dance last night. In that case, it wouldn't be beyond him to make him walk.

"Charles. I can't push two wheelchairs."

"I know, I'm sorry - I can just try to wheel myself - "

"No, you're not going to wheel yourself. You're going to put the metal outfit on."

"I'm not putting on that metal monstrosity! Erik, it's okay, I'll manage - "

"No. No offense Charles, but we do not have time to wait around for your wheelchair fumbling when who knows what is happening with Bobby! You will put the outfit on, and you will walk."

Charles gave him a stubborn look, but conceded the point. They needed to find Bobby and it would be faster if they didn't have to wait around for another wheelchair.

So, once again, they returned to the hotel (Charles wheeling himself) and Charles changed into the metal goth outfit. Erik practiced a minute with him. He just felt okay enough to support Charles's weight with his mind, but that was all. Anything more was beyond him right now. Charles, however, still had an enormous headache and couldn't use his telepathy at all.

So, the three of them left the hotel in silent agreement to return the monk to the monastery, where they would hopefully be able to get more answers. Charles felt very odd, almost like he was floating. Although he could see his feet connecting with the ground, he couldn't feel it. The sensation triggered a brief memory - lights, screaming, cheering, dancing and spinning - and the telepath grabbed onto it eagerly, only for it to slip through his fingers.

Damn.

The unlikely trio arrived at the Buddhist monastery. Charles wished he could control his own movement, so he could look around a bit, but submitted to Erik's relentless focus on the task at hand without comment. Erik brought them all to a stop by a group of monks who appeared to be meditating.

"Excuse me, we are returning your monk to you, and we were wondering - "Charles started.

A monk surged up immediately, carrying a pole. He came within a foot of hitting Charles with it when it 'mysteriously' stopped in mid-air.

Metal pole, then.

Charles glanced over at Erik, who was glaring so coldly at the man who was still trying to hit him with the pole, that Charles was sure that if he'd had Bobby's power the man would be an instant ice statue.

At his full strength, Erik would have beaten the crap out of the man with the pole, who had dared to attack Charles. As it was, Erik could barely hold it together enough to keep both Charles and the pole still. He eyed the necklace around the man's neck. Maybe, he could just manage a small squeeze...

Charles saw the necklace start to move. "Erik, please, I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding, no need to escalate things - we need answers -"

In response, the man tried even harder to get the pole out of its invisible grip to beat the crap out of Charles.

"He's trying to hurt you, Charles - that's all the understanding I need!" Erik growled in frustration. It was like the Cuban Missile Crisis all over again - him holding danger at bay, trying to turn it around and eliminate the threat, while Charles wanted to _talk_ to the threat, and get along!

Charles, despite his disagreement over Erik's attitude, couldn't help but feel a warm glow at Erik's protective words. "Thank you, my friend - I think I remember now, though - we need to stop talking. I think it's tradition. They might let us talk somewhere else."

Their eyes met, and Erik nodded dubiously. When they had been silent for a minute, the man with the pole gave up and let go of it. Erik let it drop none too gently by his feet.

True to Charles's realization, they filed out to a different area, wheelchair monk in tow. As Erik manipulated him to their destination, Charles stroked the monkey, who was still on his shoulder. He actually was growing a bit attached to it, to be honest.

They arrived at a small building, and the monk who seemed to be in charge spoke to them and asked what they wanted. Charles cut in before Erik could open his mouth, certain that whatever Erik planned on saying would be hostile. "We were wondering if there was any way we could get him" he gestured towards the wheelchair bound monk "to talk about what happened last night. We really need to know. Our friend Bobby is missing and we're afraid he might be in trouble."

Unfortunately, the monk absolutely refused to speak because of his vow of silence. Charles, seeing Erik's increasing frustration (and impending violence) over this, attempted to read the monk's mind. He got a few brief flashes of something - meeting them by the tattoo place, then parting ways at a strip club - before the pain overwhelmed him to the point that he had to stop. If Erik hadn't been holding him up, he would have collapsed from it. As it was, he felt the metal outfit tighten on him as he sagged in the hold, closing his eyes and breathing labored, waited for the pain to pass.

Erik, seeing Charles's pain, seemed to come to a decision. "If your little disciple here doesn't talk, I'm going to - "

"Erik," Charles croaked out. "Erik, there is no need - I remember his part in this." Charles gasped at the new pain speaking brought. It wasn't strictly true - he didn't know everything - but he knew enough to know that the monk could do no more to help them find Bobby. They would have to go to the strip club.

"Count yourself lucky Charles was here," Erik said, unable to resist a parting threat. "There are some lines I'm not afraid to cross."

The pair left quickly. Charles directed him to a strip club, which he explained they had apparently gone to the night before with Bobby. That was when they had parted company with the monk, who had been arrested shortly thereafter for reasons unknown.

They entered the club, and again Charles took charge. The exchange with the monk had triggered the memory of a name - Kimmy. He remembered some sort of intense interaction with her, although he could not remember if it had been good or bad.

"Kimmy?" the man, who called himself Samir, said. "Kimmy...she should be around here somewhere, her shift starts soon...Tabby! Get Kimmy over here!" He turned and smiled at them. "Come back for more, gents? I'm really quite surprised...the way you two were acting last night, and that whole finger incident and all with that ice pal of yours, I really didn't think I'd be seeing you again."

"This is where Bobby lost his finger?" Erik leaned in towards Samir, intent.

"Yes, don't you remember? He was doing this weird icicle trick with his hands - best magic trick I ever saw, well, beyond yours of course - and you were somehow getting a knife, without touching it, to chop off the icicles as they appeared to grow from his hands - and you weren't too steady with the knife there, and accidentally got his finger one time. Kid didn't seem too bothered though, immediately packed it with ice and continued on. You left shortly after. But really, that was just a side event compared to what you two were up to with Kimmy! Why, we haven't had such a scene in here for a long time!"

Erik and Charles's gazes met, trepidation in them. What had happened?


	5. Kimmy, a Gang, and a Meeting

Kimmy finally appeared . Their eyes were immediately drawn to the vivid bruising around her neck. For the first time, Erik felt a faint stirring in his memory as to what had happened the night before. Kimmy had done something, apparently inexcusable, and he had tried to choke her for it, undoubtedly stopped his telepathic friend before any lasting harm came to her. But, what?

"Hey boys, here for a threesome? I didn't think you'd be coming back after the way you were acting last night!"

There it was again! Neither Erik nor Charles was eager to voice the question, but it had to be asked.

"What...happened?" asked Erik.

"We don't remember," Charles explained.

Kimmy laughed hard and motioned them into a back room. Erik glanced at Charles and manipulated him beside him with a subtle wave of his hand. It occurred to Charles that he could go back to using his wheelchair now, but it was the wrong moment to bring it up.

"So you don't remember, do you, boys? Considering how smashed you were, I believe it. It all started when you came in here with that ice man of yours. He made a likeness of me in ice, which I thought was quite charming. Then Charles here said it could never compare to the original. I started coming onto him, when you, Erik, went all crazy. My necklace wrapped tight around my neck somehow, and I could barely breathe. You said in no uncertain terms that Charles was yours and yours only, and, in fact, you two were here on your honeymoon, so, I had to keep your hands off your new husband."

" _Honeymoon_?" said Charles.

"Yes, you said you'd gotten married in Los Vegas, which I thought was a bit unlikely considering it isn't legal there yet, but you had the papers and everything to prove it."

"Married? When?" asked Erik in a strange tone.

"Last night, which I also think is crazy, how in the world did you get here from there in so short a time? Looked official, though," granted Kimmy.

Charles and Erik turned towards each other, realizing that they had barely even scratched the surface of what had happened the night before. Their minds were mute with shock. It did explain the rings on their hands though.

"That ain't the half of it. You two have no shame! After that declaration, you seemed to forget all about me, then you were all over each other. Erik here, you pinned Charles down and started pounding into him like there was no tomorrow!"

Charles knew she wasn't exaggerating, because her description matched what he'd seen in the late Chow's mind before he died. The telepath felt suddenly very aware of how it was the metal suit, and only the metal suit, holding him up. Which was held there by Erik's mind. Which, by default, was holding him in some rather private places.

Erik, meanwhile, couldn't seem to take his eyes off Charles. The woman's description of what had happened triggered more memories - and he admitted to himself that they were not unpleasant. He grew very aware of how he held Charles a few feet away from him, completely at his mercy, without even his telepathic abilities at his disposal. His breathing sped up. He hadn't given much thought to an underlying sexual relationship between them, but here, and now, he could feel how the tension between them had built up to this moment. And, judging by the look on Charles's face, he wasn't alone in being turned on by the situation.

Charles felt his face redden as Erik stared at him with a glint of hunger in his eyes. While he knew, in a theoretical sort of way, that they'd gone at it while they were drunk both times, he hadn't given it much thought to doing it when sober.

Erik gave a slow, shark like smile that sent a thrill of anticipation up Charles's spine. He felt the suit grow tighter around him and grow stiff, preventing him from moving even if he wanted to as Erik stepped closer so that they were only inches apart.

"I'm thinking you knew about this, Charles," Erik said in a rather sexy voice. "After all, you must be feeling the effects of this right now. You must have known from the moment you woke up this morning."

"Yes," said Charles boldly, steadily meeting his gaze. "That, I did."

"And you have...no complaints."

"No, no complaints Erik," Charles admitted softly, the two of them completely oblivious to how Kimmy was giggling with the other girls about how adorable they were.

Without warning, Charles felt himself being yanked towards Erik by means of his suit - then Erik was kissing him, a bit tentative a first until Charles responded, then filled with a bit more aggression.

They had, unfortunately, forgotten about the monkey, who had not appreciated the yanking which caused him to almost fall off his new favorite perch. He deduced the cause and bit firmly into Erik's neck.

For a split second, Erik thought was it was Charles biting him. Then he realized that couldn't be, because Charles's lips were firmly captured in his.

The monkey.

Erik broke abruptly from the kiss, dragging the damn creature off him by the metal on its outfit. He used his arms to hold Charles up so he could focus on the irritating creature that didn't seem to like him.

"Erik, it's just a monkey - "

"It bit me!"

"Maybe he wanted to get in on the action -"

"Can't believe you just said that Charles, let's see how you feel when he bites you!"

"Erik, please. Give me back the monkey. Don't hurt him."

Erik glared mutinously at Charles, but relented. "Fine." He released the monkey and allowed him to return to Charles's shoulder. "Let's go - there's nothing more to learn here." Erik immediately turned and Charles had no choice but to follow him out the door. He couldn't be sure, because he didn't have much feeling down there due to the accident and resulting disability (though he still was completely functional in all ways, thankfully), but he thought he felt a strange kneading sensation on his butt. He made no comment on it, but reddened a bit more.

They stood in the alleyway, collecting their thoughts about what to do next. "So, if Kimmy is to be believed, we made a stop in Los Vegas last night," started Charles.

"Azazel," said Erik. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought it before, but now it seemed obvious. "Azazel must be involved in this somehow. Otherwise we couldn't have been in New York, Los Vegas, Bangkok, and god knows where else, all in the same night."

"You know him better than I do, Erik. Can't you call him here, question him?"

"I could, but...I need my helmet," said Erik. He did not explain why.

"It wasn't in any of the pictures, and we didn't see it in the hotel," Charles said, trying to narrow down where it could be.

Before they could speculate further, a couple motorcyclists carrying guns sped through the narrow alley. "Give us the monkey!" the man in front demanded.

Erik opened his mouth to say, "Gladly" but was cut off by Charles.

"No! He isn't going anywhere." Charles did not like the look of the men. They looked like a gang, and he didn't think they would be kind to his new friend.

"Charles! Now is not the time to be stubborn! Give them the monkey!"

"Yes, Charles!" The gangster said. "Give up the monkey! Or we'll shoot!"

"Erik, you can stop them! Don't let them take the monkey!"

"Charles, normally yes, but I can't right now! GIVE THEM THE DAMN MONKEY!"

Charles looked a bit startled - for all their arguing, Erik had never raised his voice before. It was a testament to how rotten they both felt right now, their hangovers beating at their respective skulls and patience. "You just don't like him because he bit you!"

One of the gangsters raised a gun.

"CHARLES!" yelled Erik frantically. He yanked his friend by his metal suit towards him just in time. The bullet passed through where Charles had been a moment before.

Erik grabbed the monkey and handed it over to the gangster. The gang sped away with their prize. Erik lowered the both of them to the ground, needing to rest a moment. "What...what is going ON?" Erik groaned. Where did the monkey fit into all this, and why was that gang so desperate to have it back?

He opened his eyes after a few minutes to look at Charles. It was atypical of him to be silent for this long, not saying anything about their next move.

Charles met his gaze. "I can't believe you let them take him!"

"What else was I supposed to do? I don't have the best control over my power right now, and they were shooting at you!"

"You just don't like him! Admit it! He could have been important!"

"I don't believe this!" said Erik in exasperation. "The whole Shaw incident, the bombs, the bullet, the wheelchair, your sister, the opposition...you forgive me all of that, and yet you hold a damn monkey against me!"

"All of that - it was an accident and understandable! This was a deliberate, malicious act!"

Clearly, Charles was overreacting. Erik atypically let himself cool down a bit, and for the first time found himself being the calm, serene voice of reason while Charles was the one worked into a tizzy.

"Charles. I realize you aren't used to being without your telepathy. Hell, it's probably the first time you have been. I know you have an enormous headache, and you're getting more and more frantic for Bobby. You're probably afraid the gang with the - monkey - has Bobby. It's crossed my mind too. We've had a lot of revelations in the past few hours, not all of them pleasant, and we know we're in for many more. I know it still frustrates you that you can't walk, and for the record, you're the last person I would view as disabled. Just - listen to me for a moment."

Charles's eyes, a little softer now, seemed to ask him to continue, a bit contrite.

"You're right. I don't give a shit about that blasted monkey. The only thing I care about is finding Bobby and getting you back safely. Maybe now you'll finally see the truth - I am not a nice man. This shouldn't be a surprise."

Charles deflated, giving in to reason. "Erik - Erik, I'm sorry. You're right, having no telepathy is very difficult for me. I don't know how to function without it, it has been such a big part of me for so long, even if I'm very scrupulous about how I use it. And no, you aren't changing my mind about you that easily," Charles countered, his easy tone finally making a reappearance.

"Would this change your mind?" Erik asked huskily, using his power to peel up the bottom of Charles's shirt.

"Erik!" He exclaimed in surprise. "What are you - ?"

Erik reached out with his hand towards Charles, but stopped as something on Charles's stomach caught his eye. "What's that?"

"What's what?" asked Charles, afraid that Erik had seen the EML tattoo.

"That, written on your stomach. It looks like an address," Erik explained.

Charles glanced down. To his relief, it wasn't the tattoo, it was something written in what appeared to be his own drunken scrawl. He hadn't noticed it before, he had been too distracted. "It's an address, and a...time. A half hour from now, actually."

"Let's go." Erik got them both up and hurried to their destination. It occurred again to Charles to ask for his wheelchair back, but, they were in a hurry. Probably best if he wait until later.


	6. The Ice Melted

They had no idea who they were meeting, so they sat down at a table and waited for who ever it was to come to them. Maybe they would finally find out what happened to Bobby.

An older looking, balding man with glasses and red hair (what little there was of it) sat down by them at the table.

"Hello, we've been looking forward to his meeting, my friend," said Charles, using all his confidence and charm.

The man smiled briefly. Even he couldn't resist Charles's guileless demeanor. "Where's Chow?" he asked.

Oh no. "Chow couldn't make it," stated Charles. "He's ah, ill. Haven't seen him in awhile. We were wondering, though, do you know where Bobby is?"

"I have Bobby," the man said.

"Give him to us," Erik demanded. Charles felt the metal in his suit slacken as Erik's focus shifted to the man in front of him. Charles risked a very quick, light probe of the man's mind, just enough to learn his name.

"Please, Kingsley. You must give him back to us."

"No, not until Chow comes here and transfers the money he owes me, along with the password. I get the money and the password, you get Bobby. Is that clear?"

"The only thing that's clear is that your days are numbered," stated Erik. This man - this puny human - stood between him and his goal. He would squash him.

Charles, still reeling a bit from his attempt at telepathy, for once made no protest. Besides, he couldn't blame Erik for being angry at this point. This situation would be trying at the best of times, much less with a fierce hangover.

"If I die, Bobby dies," Kingsley stated, not backing down one bit. "The password and the money, or no deal. Meet me here in six hours. Don't follow me."

With that, the man left quickly.

"We have to get back to the hotel," surmised Charles. "Maybe the password is in one of his pockets."

There really was nothing left to do. The two of them marched back up to the ice machine in the hotel. Erik had no sooner used his powers to rip it open, than a man - Chow - came charging out of it.

Surprised, Erik accidentally let Charles drop to the floor. Charles caught himself with his hands and tried to right himself as Erik and Chow wrestled. Erik ended up winning, obviously. He was formidable even at the worst of times, and right now, he had a lot of pent up anger to let out. Chow didn't stand a chance and was pinned within seconds.

"What the hell was that for?" asked Erik angrily.

"You were trying to kill me in there!"

"No we weren't, you were dead!"

"Not dead! Heart stops sometimes when I take dosage! I thought you knew that!"

"No we didn't! Do I look like a pot expert to you?"

"Yes," said Chow without hesitation, thinking of how they were behaving the night before. Clearly, they had been high on _something._

Erik made a disgusted sound and let Chow go, satisfied that he wasn't going to fight them anymore. He noticed Charles struggling on the floor and apologetically raised him back to a standing position as he stood up too. "I'm sorry, Charles."

"Understandable," Charles responded. "I'm glad to see you're alive, Chow. We need your help."

To make up for locking him in a freezer for several hours, (which, fortunately, wasn't as cold as time went on, because of the power outage) they went to a diner nearby and bought him lots of hot food and drink with some money they found in their pockets. As Chow got his teeth chattering under control, they explained the situation to him, forgoing questioning about the night before due to the urgency of retrieving Bobby.

"What is your business anyway?" asked Erik, irritated to be caught in the middle of it.

"It's called none of YOUR business. Where's the monkey?" asked Chow.

"Some gang took him," said Erik.

"We need the monkey. The password is in his pocket."

Erik groaned inwardly. The last thing he wanted right now was to go on a wild monkey chase. He ignored Charles's satisfied look and nonverbal 'I told you so.'

So they stole a car and went looking for the gang with Chow's help. Extracting the monkey, with Erik's talent, was easy.

Escaping with the monkey was not.

Erik was driving and doing crazy things with the car he certainly wouldn't have been able to do without his gift. Charles searched the monkey's pockets and found the password as the car skidded crazily back and forth. Bullets peppered the vehicle but didn't penetrate, the metal manipulator finding enough focus to deflect them at last. Erik would never admit it, but he now realized he felt bad about letting the monkey go earlier because it had upset Charles. He wasn't going to let it go a second time.

"Why do they want the monkey anyway?" Charles asked as Erik prevented them from crashing into a building by sheer force of will and power.

"Monkey helps with drug deals. Can't get arrested," said Chow, as if that explained everything.

Erik lost them in the end by propelling the car across a river. When it landed, it wouldn't have been able to go any further on its own, but they had Erik, so he drove it to the place where they were to meet Kingsley.

They arrived just in time for their appointment. Erik used his power to wrench the now non-functioning doors open. He manipulated Charles along, the monkey on the telepath's shoulder. Chow followed without comment.

They met Kingsley on top of the building. The man informed them that he would bring Bobby to them when they were done with the transaction.

Everything appeared to be going smoothly. That is, until Interpol arrived in a large helicopter and Kingsley revealed himself as an uncover cop.

"Sorry," he said to Erik and Charles. "We never had Bobby. We needed you to bring Chow to us."

Erik's face turned to stone. The helicopter started to shake oddly as he attempted to tear the damn thing apart. He had been sent on a while goose chase, used like a fool, while who knows what was happening to Bobby!

"Erik, Erik stop, we need to keep looking for Bobby and we can't do that if we're arrested -"

To punctuate his pleading, the monkey leaped over to Erik and sank his teeth in the German's neck again.

Without raising a hand, Erik ripped the monkey off him again and shoved him back at Charles. The animal settled back on Charles's shoulder sulkily.

"Fine," said Erik shortly. The helicopter quit shaking. "But the next time we get a false lead, I'm not holding back."

Charles figured that this was the best he could expect from someone like Erik.

They returned to the hotel. The power still wasn't back on, so they took the stairs. They sat down in the chairs in their room glumly. What now?

"So, Los Vegas. It's the only lead we have," said Erik.

Charles was staring at the glass, which still had Bobby's finger inside. Would that be the only part of him that he would be able to return to Bobby's parents? As he continued to stare, different possibilities began to coalesce in his mind. "Erik. We can't use our abilities, at least, we couldn't for awhile. I don't suppose that would mean that Bobby reached a point where he couldn't either?"

"Don't depress me further, Charles. Yes, it means he's alone and defenseless." Memories of being defenseless to Shaw's torture and experimentation flitted through his mind. There was a powerful mutant on the loose that had stolen Air Force One. Had he also taken Bobby? Was this another Shaw? This had been running through the back of his mind for awhile now and had fueled his urgency to find Bobby.

"No, I don't think so," said Charles, his mood brightening. Erik looked at him curiously.

"How about this. The shock of losing his finger prevented Bobby from sleeping right away. But, he reached the point, like we did, where he couldn't use his powers. He needed ice, though, to take care of his finger. So, what did he do?"

"He went to the ice machine," said Erik, starting to see where Charles was going with this.

"Yes, he went to the ice machine, but he never made it. BECAUSE THE POWER WENT OUT! Erik, I do believe Bobby is stuck in an elevator!"

Erik hadn't thought to look in there when he searched the building. He wanted to smack himself. Extracting Bobby from the elevator was quite simple, now that Erik was even more recovered and his power was coming to him more easily. It appeared Bobby had recovered too. His injured finger was encased with ice that didn't melt. Charles himself was starting to feel better, but he wasn't eager to try his telepathy again unless it was necessary.

Bobby beamed at his rescuers, his phone in hand as Erik wrenched open the elevator doors. He hadn't been able to use it to make any calls, because the elevator blocked the signal. But, he wasn't upset. He certainly had been able to keep himself sufficiently entertained by all the photos and videos from his phone. He couldn't believe the crazy shit they had all been up to yesterday!

"You know, before I met you two, life wasn't so great. But, I woke up this morning in the elevator, and I felt...happy."

Still a bit hungover, then.

"Do you remember what happened last night?" asked Charles, relieved to see Bobby in one piece (excluding his finger, of course).

"I didn't at first. But then I looked at everything on my phone, and it all came back to me!"

The three of them returned to their room to finally piece it all together.


	7. Emma Frost

_Yesterday, after they had finished eating and drinking, and mysteriously got drunk, even Bobby, who had not had one drop of alcohol..._

"Man, it is _hot_ in here!" said Charles, fanning himself with a napkin, not aware of how ridiculous it looked. They had just finished sharing dessert.

No kidding, Bobby thought. He could fix that easily. He never made ice in public before, but right now he could not think clearly think of why, so he didn't worry about it. "I'll fix it for you, Prof," said Bobby, making an ice block and handing it to him.

"Thanks, Bobby," said Charles, dabbing at his face and neck. He gave it to Erik so he could have a turn with it. Erik took it without comment, grateful for his friend's thoughtfulness.

Bobby beamed, happy to be of help. He could not remember his gift being so appreciated, other than by his late grandfather. He couldn't seem to care about it much about it right now though, which was odd.

"What do you say we get some air?" suggested Charles. The diner suddenly seemed boring and rather confining. He couldn't remember why he'd decided to come here in the first place, but that didn't seem important now.

His companions agreed, and they all started walking down the street, where they met Emma Frost.

"How are you feeling, Charles?" she asked in a strange tone they couldn't figure the meaning of.

"Splendid, splendid! I'm here with my bestest friends, having the grooviest time! Or we will, once we find something exciting to do..."

"What are you doing here, Emma? I thought you were supposed to be in France," chided Erik. He couldn't remember why he was here with Charles and Bobby, but he did remember that much.

"I'm here to help you with Charles. I found out he was interfering with your recruiting and I thought it was high time we took care of that. I slipped him some things in his cake to make questioning him easier."

"What?" said Erik, anger making his thoughts more coherent.

"Better start soon. He's not going to live for many more hours, you know."

"WHAT?" roared Erik. He couldn't fathom any reason as to why she wanted to hurt Charles, though something teased at the edge of his mind. Weren't they enemies? But that didn't make sense, they were here, having such fun together... "In his CAKE? But, Bobby and I shared his cake with him!" He was still too confused and in too much shock to think about retribution yet.

Charles frowned, vaguely confused as to why she would want to kill him. That wasn't very nice. She was so pretty though, he couldn't be mad.

Emma was a bit taken aback that all three of them had been dosed, but recovered. "Well, then, none of you got the full dose, so you'll all live. But, you'll be worse than drunk for several hours and you might reach a point where you can't use your abilities. That's okay, I can still question Charles for you - The man I got the poison from said it would totally inhibit his ability to understand the consequences of his actions and make him very forthright about things -"

"I will be happy to answer any of your questions!" said Charles brightly, not remembering why that would be a bad idea and deciding it wasn't important. "But first, I would like to fly Air Force One."

 _Back in the present moment..._

"We didn't!" exclaimed Charles, horrified. _He_ had been the one to make the famous airplane disappear?

"We did!" said Bobby gleefully.

Charles hid his face in his hands for a moment, before forcing himself to continue to look at the photos and videos, one memory after another being triggered.

 _Back to yesterday..._

"Air Force One? Why that?" asked Emma, confused.

"Because then I'll be the president! It'll like, be my chariot! Erik can be my vice president, and Bobby can be my secretary, and you can be...well we'll find something for you!"

Emma couldn't read his mind, it was way too chaotic for that, plus Charles was blocking her automatically. She felt confident she could maintain control of him, but she hadn't counted on this side effect. It looked like she wouldn't be able to get anything out of him unless she agreed to help them steal the president's airplane. "Fine. I'll call Azazel."

Azazel appeared, then took them all to the airport, right outside the gate where the military plane was kept, before disappearing again. Bobby, having no clue that teleporters even existed, stared around in utter amazement.

Charles was not the least bit fazed by the swarms of security guards, cameras, guns, and various other things protecting the plane. "This will be just like in the movies!" said Charles enthusiastically. He concentrated for a few moments, telling people to vacate his plane, then turned to Erik, confused. "Erik, why do you have no brain?"

"What?" Erik could do nothing but stare at Charles, flabbergasted. What in the world had merited that comment?

"Everyone else - I can feel their brains. I can't feel yours though," Charles complained.

"It's his helmet," explained Emma.

"That doesn't make sense. Helmets are supposed to protect your brain, not make it disappear!" argued Charles, thinking himself quite logical.

Emma really didn't want to have this conversation, but a plan formed in her mind. "Look, it doesn't matter. But I promise you, if he takes it off, you will feel his...brain."

"Your brain isn't very nice," Charles complained in response.

Emma gave him a disbelieving look.

Charles turned towards Erik. "Take off that abomination. I can't tell you how disturbing it is to talk to someone with no brain."

Emma watched maliciously as Erik struggled with his helmet, not realizing at first that it was welded to his head. He had a vague notion that it was that way for a reason, but it didn't seem as important as pleasing Charles right now. Frustrated, he finally resorted to using his powers, and it came flying off, then abruptly dropped to the ground.

Emma had been waiting for this moment a long time. He didn't have Riptide to bail him out this time - now was her chance to take over. She was much more ruthless and effective than Erik was. For instance, she would have no problems with killing Charles. Erik had shot down every suggestion to imprison or harm Charles she had made, ignoring her pointing out that he was a rather large hindrance to their plans. With herself in charge, that would change. Questioning Charles first was important however, so she would know what kind of plans he had set in motion against them.

She had not counted on Charles rushing to Erik's defense.

"You, you, bloody, bloody... bitch!" said Charles, scrambling for the right words as he defended Erik's mind from Emma's telepathic attack.

Emma had severely underestimated Charles. Sober, Charles held his power back considerably, his natural empathy preventing him from doing much harm or using much force even in defensive situations, giving her the impression that she could control him easily. However, due to the drug, he now had no inhibitions to his impulses, poor judgment, no understanding of consequences, so the full might of his talent was unleashed.

She was no match for him. She collapsed to the ground, clutching her head, then passed out after a few seconds.

"Oh, dear," said Charles, feeling vaguely like something may have gone wrong. "Well, at least she won't bother us anymore," he concluded, deciding that it wasn't important and he wouldn't worry about it.

Besides, he had Air Force One to fly!

Erik, meanwhile, stared at Charles. He couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling that something phenomenal had just happened. But what? It was too difficult to piece together, so he decided to give up on it.

Bobby watched the whole exchange with morbid fascination. This certainly had been the most eventful day he could ever remember and it seemed things were just getting started!

"All right!" said Charles, clapping his hands together eagerly. "First things first! Take out the security cameras!"

Immediately after Charles's proclamation, Erik felt weird impulses and whisperings in his brain. He couldn't think of one good reason not to go along with them, and he found he couldn't fight them anyway, so he didn't feel much concern as he used his power to crush every security camera within range of Air Force One.

"Excellent," said Charles cheerfully when he was done guiding Erik, the last camera destroyed. It was easy to find them by reading the minds of the security people. Bobby, their friend or whomever he was, was busy taking pictures, finding the whole thing very cool and exciting. Charles was pleased. He could scrapbook this all later! "Excellent, excellent, just smashing! Oh dear, it seems we've upset a few people..."

Indeed, people were now running around frantically, trying to figure out why all the cameras had suddenly combusted and were about to call a red alert.

"I _hate_ it when people are unhappy! Why can't they all just be happy?" complained Charles. "I'm going to fix it."

Suddenly, everyone in the vicinity of the airport dropped to the ground with the exception of the three of them.

"Looks like I overdid it," said Charles. The way he said it, though, you'd think he'd merely done something like run a little further than he was prepared to, rather than make thousands of people collapse. "Oh well, I'm sure they could all use a nap anyway."

Erik agreed with this and thought his friend very kind for providing them with rest.

"Erik, my friend, could you please open the gate for me?" Charles asked. He didn't bother entering his friend's brain this time, he felt sure Erik could accomplish this by himself.

Erik reached for the gate in front of them and ended up not only tearing the gate aside, but fifty feet of fencing along with it.

Charles beamed. "Points for enthusiasm, Erik!"

"Your wheelchair wouldn't have fit," Erik responded simply.

They entered without resistance. Alarms went off, but no one other than them was awake to hear it, so they paid it no mind.

"There it is! Look, there's even a ramp for my wheelchair, how thoughtful!" Seeing no reason to wait, he wheeled himself towards the airplane. His dream was about to come true! "I do believe I'm about to become the youngest president ever!"

The other two followed him in. "Erik, if you would," said Charles, gesturing towards the door. Erik shut it with a bang.

"Now we're going to take off!" said Charles gleefully. "My presidency begins!"

Erik felt some concern - not pressing, but it was present. "You know how to fly this thing?"

"Of course, I downloaded it all from the pilot straight to my brain!" He tapped his temple for emphasis. "No worries, my friend!"

Erik, who had made sure to bring his helmet with him (the importance of that coming through even his addled state) set it down by the pilot's chair as Charles rolled up to the controls. The pilot's chair was in the way though. "Erik, could you please -"

Erik ripped the chair out of the way and flung it to the wall with a clang.

"Thank you, my friend!" Charles said brightly. He started up the plane, giving commands to Erik and Bobby along the way to get it rolling. He wasn't always sure if he did it verbally or telepathically, but it didn't seem to matter really, so he didn't worry about it. No one was in the plane, having vacated it at Charles's telepathic suggestion the moment they arrived, so they were good to go!


	8. Air Force One

They managed to take off successfully, even if it was a bit rough. Every time someone detected them and radioed them, asking what the fuck they were doing, Charles telepathically persuaded the people concerned that there was nothing to worry about, and he wiped their memories to be sure it didn't continue to weigh on their obviously overly stressed minds.

"You know, we need proper attire, now that we are president and vice president," decided Charles. "And the proper music. Bobby, do you think you could find us something, please?"

Bobby nodded. "I'm so excited to meet you, Mr. President, I've always wanted to!" he said. Something didn't seem quite right, but they _were_ in Air Force One, were they not? It all made sense really. He turned on the national anthem and found some official looking suits in the pile of suitcases. He also found a bunch of goth outfits with metal on them in a suitcase labeled "Abby Sciuto.". He thought they were neat, he loved wearing black, so he brought them all out to Charles for his approval. It was odd, this feeling of fitting in, but wonderful, so he reveled in it.

"Wonderful job Bobby, I knew you could do it, I have complete confidence in you!" Charles looked over the outfits, a plan clinking together in his fuzzy brain. "I have, the most MARVELOUS, idea!" He said. Through Erik, he manipulated the goth outfits closer to himself and picked out one. He stripped down right where he was, completely missing the way Erik stared at him as he did so. Then he used Erik again to manipulate the outfit over to him and put it on. Once on, he stood up, using his mental suggestions to Erik to use his power to support him - a sort of instant feedback loop of Charles manipulating Erik to manipulate him. Now he was free from the chair, and could move on his own! "This is my best day ever! My dear chap, you are my bestest friend." He put the suit on over the goth outfit, so he could at least look official.

Erik changed into a suit as well, not wanting Charles to be upset. Charles watched him, a little confused by how it made him feel, but didn't dwell on it. He had a speech to deliver!

"My fellow Americans! I am honored, by the honor, of being your new President! I promise to...to...boost the economy, and promote acceptance and equality of everyone, especially the mutants! I will make everyone happy wherever I am, because I of course have the ability to do so!"

Erik and Bobby clapped politely and grinned.

"There will be none of that war or fighting nonsense...and everyone will...will... what else do... ah yes, and I will always abide by the wishes of the American people!"

Erik was a bit confused now, but Bobby continued clapping and even threw a fist in the air in jubilation.

Charles stopped his speech abruptly as he had to deal with someone else radioing him as to why he was in restricted space. This person had been particularly unhappy and it disturbed Charles. "Erik, why are people so unhappy?" he asked, his voice a bit whiny.

Erik wasn't sure, but when he was unhappy, it seemed to have something to do with a coin. "Money, I think," he said.

"You are absolutely right!" agreed Charles vehemently. "Money is the root of all evil! We must get rid of that monstrosity! Erik, do what you must!"

Erik nodded. Charles's new campaign made perfect sense, and it filled him with a satisfaction he couldn't quite comprehend at the moment. Within an hour, he had gathered all the coins on the plane and melted them into a ball. Bobby took lots of pictures of him doing that.

"Where are we going, anyway?" asked Bobby.

"I hadn't given it much thought," Charles admitted. It was more about being in the plane than going anywhere. He was silent a moment, thinking. "Let's start where the most money is. There's a lot of money in Los Vegas, isn't there?" he reasoned.

"Absolutely," agreed Erik. "Perfection!"

Charles had originally set them on a general western heading, so Vegas wasn't too far off their current route. He did a surprisingly accurate job of setting the course to Vegas, considering his current state, but his 'download' of the pilot's expertise had been thorough enough to make up for it. He did his best to avoid areas where they would have contact with the unhappy people. He would come back when all the money was destroyed and they were happier.

He turned his attention to the ball of melted coins. "We need to make it anew!" he said dramatically. "Make it into something stunning! I will have to think on it."

"That's, that's beautiful Charles," said Erik, moved by the concept.

"I've also been thinking," continued Charles. "President Charles Xavier just doesn't have the best ring to it, you know? Just doesn't have the right flow!"

Erik and Bobby nodded as if this made perfect sense.

"I think I would prefer, KING Charles Xavier. I am English and all. It really is quite logical. So, I'm King Charles Xavier, and I'm making America my money free empire! You, Erik..hmm..sounds Viking doesn't it! You'll be my Viking King friend! And Bobby, you're a singer or something, aren't you? Drake? So, you'll sing our way to our new empire!"

Bobby, obediently following a mental suggestion of Charles, turned off the national anthem and started singing one that Charles made up as he went along, videoing the whole thing.

 _Present time..._

Charles's face could not get any redder or more horrified. "Oh, my god," he said. "Bobby, Bobby, I'm so sorry, I was COMPLETELY out control, I am never like that usually -"

Bobby couldn't stop laughing.

Erik, meanwhile, was staring at Charles like he was starting to have some kind of epiphany. "You hold back, more than anyone realizes, don't you?"

"You've no idea," muttered Charles.

Erik felt like he was starting to have some kind of idea. It was making him reassess his opinions on involving Charles in any world domination plot. He was beginning to see that it maybe would not be the best strategy he'd ever come up with. Encouraging that side of Charles no longer held the appeal it once did. Charles would be truly terrifying if he became unleashed.

 _Yesterday, on Air Force One..._

After finishing the very poorly composed national anthem (Charles was an expert in genetics, not music) of Charles's new American Empire, the telepath allowed Bobby to have control of his voice again. "That was splendid, your Majesty! Inspiring!" complimented Bobby.

Charles beamed. "Thank you! I made it myself. And, now I have an idea! Erik, why don't you make that metal ball into a likeness of me? That way, there will be two of me and we will get more done!"

Erik could see his point. He began bending and warping the metal into shape. When he was finished, it resembled Mr. Potatohead more than Charles.

"A perfect likeness!" Charles declared, pleased. Bobby made sure to take a photo of the end result. "Now, what was once evil has been born again in goodness!" He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but it sounded good.

Erik and Bobby stared at it, caught up in the pretty words and the beautiful moment.

 _Present time..._

Bobby and Erik were laughing so hard, they couldn't breathe. Charles, meanwhile, was wishing his mutation was the ability to become invisible.

 _Air Force One..._

"My friends, Los Vegas is near!" Charles informed them importantly. "I must confess to a bit of a complication...I forgot to find out how to land the plane." He had been so focused on the idea of flying it that landing it hadn't occurred to him.

Erik and Bobby turned towards their fearless leader, feeling sure he would come up with some kind of solution.

 _Present day..._

"Oh my god," Charles groaned again, seeing what was coming from a mile away. "I did _not_ crash Air Force One...oh, my god..."

Bobby and Erik began to sober up a bit, realizing the implications of this. Obviously there would be a huge investigation. Mutants might be blamed and not coming out looking good. However, they would worry about that later, and focused again on the pictures and videos. They had come out unscathed, apparently, but how?

 _Air Force One..._

"Erik, you must build me a chariot, and you will float us all out of here, and I will program the plane to crash into a body of water. Everyone then comes out happy!"

"Perfection," said Erik. There was no trace of sarcasm in his voice. He and Bobby collected all the extra metal they could find, and Erik fashioned it into a chariot big enough for the three of them to fit in comfortably, plus he made an area for some luggage. After all, you always have luggage with you when you leave a plane. He packed all the metal goth outfits he could find, since Charles seemed to like them, some extra metal, since he himself loved metal, plus some more suits and random things his very stoned brain insisted they needed. He packed his helmet and the wheelchair too, since a niggling feeling in the back of his brain seemed to insist that it was important.

Charles leaped into the chariot, beckoning his fellows to join him. "The plane crashes in two minutes, my friends! Erik, if you would drop us through the floor - protect us from the wind, too, if you would."

Erik concentrated, helped by Charles, and ripped a giant whole in the floor, using the metal to fashion a sort of shield as a wind block.

"Charge!" said Charles, since that was the proper thing to say when one was in a chariot.

They plummeted several feet, buffeted by the wind, swaying drunkenly, before they were able to level out. The plane sped ahead of them, dropping into a body of water. Charles couldn't remember what it was called and it didn't matter right now.

BOOM!

It crashed in the shallow part of the water. All three of them thought it was extremely funny and they laughed hysterically for several long minutes, threatening their control of the chariot, so they made a rather rough descent towards the ground.

"That... that was bloody brilliant!" said Charles enthusiastically. "On to Vegas, if you would, Erik!"

Erik landed the chariot abruptly, nearly causing the three of them to fall out. They managed to hang on, though, so he rolled them down the road towards the Los Vegas sign.


	9. Vegas

In all the excitement, Charles had forgotten his original purpose for coming to Vegas, but that didn't matter to him. He was sure they could find something fun to do! "Vegas..." he said, thinking out loud, figuring out what to do next. "People...people get married in Vegas, don't they?" He didn't remember much about what he knew about Vegas anymore, except that it was big and people got married there.

"I think you're right," said Erik.

"Then...I'm going to get married!" declared Charles. "Weddings, are so, FUN!"

Erik and Bobby grinned eagerly. Then Erik found himself realizing there was something about this he wasn't sure he liked. "Who are you going to marry, Charles?"

"Well, I'll just find someone who is in love with me, then - " Charles stopped abruptly, and turned towards Erik with a radiant expression. "YOU are in love with me, Erik! How convenient, because I think I'm in love with you too!"

Erik decided the situation had vastly improved, and he didn't mind Charles getting married now, if it was to him.

"This is so groovy! You and I will get married, and Bobby, you can be our best man!"

"I would be honored to be your best man," said Bobby, as formally as a stoned teenager could.

"We'll need someone to marry us, and a reception hall," Erik reminded Charles.

"Yes, yes you're right! And wedding guests! Which will be no problem, of course. No need for wedding invitations when you have me!"

"I have extra suits in our luggage for all of us," Erik said, coherent enough to realize the ones they were wearing weren't looking so good anymore after bailing from Air Force One.

"Erik, you are a lifesaver...my...what is that word?"

"Hero?" supplied Erik.

"I thought it started with an f, but hero works too," allowed Charles. "We'll need a band...too, there's bands at weddings, or DJs...what else is there?"

"Catering," said Erik. "I think." He couldn't remember being to very many weddings, but he did remember there being lots of food and drink. "And a bar."

"We're in luck, I can sense many bars up ahead!" declared Charles. "Maybe that's why people get married here!"

Erik and Bobby nodded. That made perfect sense.

"Don't you worry, my darling...darlings," he said, not wanting Bobby to feel left out. "I'll take care of it all right now!" He raised his finger to his temple, making sure all the necessary people gathered with all the necessary things at all the necessary places.

Erik gazed at Charles with open, soppy admiration as he took care of everything. Bobby took a picture. "There, now you have an engagement photo!"

Charles, finished with his telepathic preparations, beamed at the icemaker. "What would we do without you, Bobby? I certainly wouldn't be where I am today!" Charles was too stoned to realize the true implications of that statement. "Come to think of it, there are photographers at weddings...you must be ours, your pictures are stunning!"

Bobby took it as the compliment Charles meant it as, and beamed back. He was not naturally a confident person, because of hiding his abilities for so long, but Charles's constant encouragement was easing him out of his shell.

Erik decided he didn't like that Charles wasn't paying attention to him. They were about to be married, after all! He thought about what was the right way to get the attention of the person he was to be married to. Then, it came to him! Without hesitation, he moved closer to Charles and kissed him. Charles sensed it coming, and, delighted, kissed him back.

Bobby took another picture.

They kissed for a long time, until Erik nearly ran them into a building, so they stopped. There were many people walking about, and driving by them in cars, but nobody seemed to think there was anything odd about three men in a chariot wheeling forward by itself, because Charles was soothing everyone in the vicinity who he sensed was disturbed by the sight.

"There's so many unhappy people here," Charles complained. "I am going to make it all better!"

"That's - that's what I love about you," said Erik. "You make everything better!"

"Thank you, my darling! I feel the same way!" Charles assured him.

Bobby, not knowing what else to do, kept taking pictures and video. It was his job now, after all!

"There, Erik - there!" said Charles, pointing to an ornate building ahead that looked more like a castle than anything else. "That is where we're getting married! Everyone is there already, and they are so excited!"

The doors to the building were large, so Erik used his powers to open the doors and he floated them in. A crowd was waiting for them, and they were clapping and cheering enthusiastically.

"See, I made them happy!" said Charles proudly. "Now, we must get changed Erik, so we can get married!"

"Charles," said Bobby before they could leave, his face in a frown. "I think I'm running out of...it says...memory?"

"Not to worry, Bobby, there's a gentlemen here who brought many extra memory cards for you! I didn't want you to miss recording one minute of this grand celebration."

"You're amazing," said Erik sincerely.

Bobby took the memory cards from the gentleman, pleased, and started to mingle with the very friendly crowd as Erik and Charles went to get changed in a nearby bathroom. Charles started to take off the goth outfit, then realized it was a bad idea, so he kept it on and put the new suit over it. Erik had finished changing much quicker, and they helped each other with the ties, but gave it up as a bad job when they realized they couldn't do the knots right. They marched out together to more cheering.

"Now we have to go to their chapel in here - the band is about to start - " Charles sent them a suggestion to start playing the wedding march.

Bobby preceded them down the aisle, swaying drunkenly and recording everything. Nothing could wipe the grins off Charles and Erik's faces right now.

At least, until Erik realized something he thought may be important. "Charles? Isn't gay marriage illegal here still?"

"Don't worry about that, I'm the president, remember? I had the good chap here doing the ceremony make an exception and draw up papers and everything. Or wait, didn't I say I was king?" said Charles, worried he didn't get his own name right on the marriage papers. That would be rather embarrassing.

Charles had accidentally projected the subject of his worry to Erik, so Erik said, "I'm sure it looks good no matter what."

"I love you, Erik," Charles responded fervently.

"I love you too, Charles," said Erik, sappy.

They arrived at the altar, then everyone grew quiet so the preacher, or whatever he was, could speak. Charles had suggested to him to do a typical marriage ceremony, so they did all the exchanging of vows. They ran into a bit of a snag when they realized they didn't have rings.

"That's okay," said Erik, summoning the extra metal he brought in the suitcases, fashioning two rings from it. He handed one to Charles.

"My hero," said Charles. Erik just smiled indulgently.

At the end, they kissed, and the preacher introduced them as "Mr. and Mr. Lehnzavier." Charles couldn't decide whose last name to use, so he decided to combine the two.

The band played the wedding march again, since Charles couldn't remember the proper song for the ending so he decided to go with that. Then they all marched out to the huge reception hall, and Erik and Charles sat up on the stage like area, with Bobby joining them. He was their best man, after all.

The guests kept clanking their glasses with their spoons, at Charles's suggestion probably, so he and Erik kept kissing. Finally Bobby interrupted them impatiently. "I think I'm supposed to make a speech, right?" He felt much more assertive now that he felt he belonged.

"Absolutely!" said Charles. "Go right ahead!" He quieted the crowd for Bobby and amplified his voice in their minds, since he couldn't seem to find a microphone. Same difference really.

"My best friends," started Bobby. "I'm so happy to see everyone here tonight!"

There were shouts of agreement.

"I haven't known these two very long, but, they're perfect for each other!" said Bobby. He was supposed to tell an embarrassing story about them now, wasn't he? He couldn't think of anything embarrassing though. He would just have to keep saying how perfect they were for he each other, and how good friends they all were. "There I was, in New York, living my boring life, not fitting in...then, these two came along! Then, I felt happier than I ever have in my life! And I could see, they make each other happier than I've ever seen them in their lives!" It occurred to Bobby that he'd never seen them apart, but it sounded good, so he went with it. "The Englishman and the Viking...an unlikely pair, but what can I say...Love wins!"

People cheered and clapped like crazy after Bobby's speech, making him feel like a million bucks. He sat down, beaming.

Charles and Erik fed each other without shame, including the cake, which looked rather hastily made but was perfection in their eyes. Then Charles realized something. "There's no wedding presents!"

Erik frowned. That wasn't right, was it?


	10. Charles's Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The version of the song played during Charles's present can be found here, it has extra verses not heard on the radio: http colon slash slash www dot youtube dot com slash watch?v=XQtAOuBjysc I recommend listening to it as you read. Also, I stole the Elvis song idea from RandomPenName. Go read her story, Echoes of the Mind on fanfiction dot net! If you haven't, you are missing out!

Charles searched Erik's mind for the perfect present, pleased when he realized that he didn't need anything except his own talents. "Ladies and Gentlemen," said Charles, standing up without further ado. "I have made a gross oversight which I now wish to correct. I forgot a wedding present for my dear husband! So, to make up for it, I will bring here to you all tonight, Erik's mother, who will talk to us and sing us a lovely song." Charles saw no reason to wait, so he immediately conjured the illusion of Erik's mother, who appeared very real to all of them.

Erik sat in his seat, frozen and overwhelmed, as his mother walked up to him with a smile, wrapped her arms around him and held him for a few minutes. She was radiant, and just as he remembered, right down to the perfume she wore. Erik started crying as he hugged her back. Charles wasn't bothered by this, because he knew Erik was actually very happy, but he did think it strange nonetheless.

 _Present time..._

Bobby had, of course, recorded the time Erik's mother was there, but Charles's gift only fooled minds, not cameras, so they couldn't see her. Charles relaxed some for the first time. For once, he wasn't being a self-aggrandizing idiot, even if he was going despicably, monstrously overboard with his telepathy.

Erik, meanwhile, turned his head a bit and used his hands to try and hide the fact that he was crying. Even though he couldn't see his mom in the video, he remembered the moment vividly now. It had been so intense, it could be compared to torture, but it was the best kind of torture he'd ever had. He couldn't thank Charles enough for that experience, but he couldn't seem to speak right now.

 _Yesterday, at the wedding reception..._

Erik's mom let him go, and she sang a beautiful German song, one Erik had always loved to hear her sing. Erik was sobbing now, and his chest was so tight, he could barely breathe. He didn't know how Charles was doing it - his mom had been murdered in front of him when he was ten - but she was here, finally, after all these years. Drowning in emotion, he couldn't speak, couldn't think, except to listen her her lovely voice again.

When she was finished singing, everyone cheered like mad for several long minutes. When things got quiet again, she turned to Erik and began to speak. "Erik, I love you so much. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you in the concentration camps, and I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from Shaw. It wasn't your fault you couldn't move the coin in time to save me from getting shot. I forgive you, because there is nothing to forgive. As I said then - everything is all right."

Erik was crying so hard now, he couldn't see.

She kissed his forehead. "Erik, honey, I'm so glad you're getting married. Charles is the best possible husband for you."

"Thanks...means a lot," Erik croaked.

"Erik, join me for the traditional wedding dance between mother and son," she invited.

"Yes, mom," he choked out, sniffling and following her out to the dance floor.

Charles decided, for the benefit of the audience, the band would play a song in English instead of German. He searched his addled mind for a good song, and came up with what he believed to be an appropriate one - I Will Remember You, the longest version he could find in the brains of the band members. He had the band play it, and Erik's mother sing it. She perhaps came out sounding a bit too much like Sarah McLachlan, but nobody seemed to care, least of all, Erik, who could barely stand now, he was sobbing so hard. The whole room was sobbing, including Charles, and it was all he could do to continue on with the complicated illusion.

The song finally ended, and Erik would have collapsed if his mother hadn't been holding him up. Charles had planned on her making an exit at this point, but he didn't think Erik's fragile emotional state was up to that at the moment, so he decided he would have her stick around a bit more.

Erik's mother half carried him back to the table and sat him down. She pulled up an extra chair for herself. Charles stood up, a bit wobbly since both he and Erik were having difficulty concentrating on the maneuver. "I propose a toast - to Erik's mum - the best mother on the planet!"

The room erupted with cheering and shouts of agreement and the sound of glasses tinkling together.

Erik raised his glass, took a sip, then focused on getting his breathing under control so he wouldn't pass out, his head in his hands and his whole body shaking from the intensity of the experience. Charles had dug through his memories rather ruthlessly so he could make a proper illusion, and so his childhood memories of his mother, long forgotten, swam at the forefront of his mind.

 _Present time..._

"I am so, so sorry, Erik," said Charles. "What I did to you was awful. I was completely out of control."

Erik decided there really was no longer any point hiding the fact that he was crying. "No, no Charles...don't mention it..." He couldn't quite voice what the experience had meant to him. But, he certainly wasn't angry at his telepathic friend. Yes, it had been quite a shock, almost a trauma, to his system, since he had lived in hate and anger for so long. But it had been worth it.

 _Yesterday, at the wedding reception..._

Charles, seeing now that the dance between mother and son had been taken care of, knew that it was time for Erik and him to dance. But unfortunately his new husband was in no fit state to. What to do, what to do...perhaps he had gone a bit overboard with his telepathy, but Erik was happy, wasn't he? So it was all good really.

Bobby took control of the situation. He had never showcased his mutation in front of a crowd before, but for the first time, he felt confident it would be accepted. Charles had given a gift with his talents, so now it was his turn! "I have a gift for the two of you!"

Charles beamed. "Groovy!"

Erik raised his head to look. It was an ice sculpture of the two of them. It wasn't any more talented than Erik's metal statue had been, but Erik managed a weak smile nonetheless.

"I love ice sculptures! So handy that it won't melt either, thank you, Bobby!" gushed Charles.

Emboldened, Bobby began decorating the sides of the room with ice sculptures of various people, while everyone complimented him on his work. He glowed from all the attention on something that was uniquely him. He'd never felt so proud of himself or so lucky to be alive.

By the time Bobby was done, Erik was recovered enough for a dance. Charles decided that it would be to the Elvis song, "I Can't Help Falling In Love With You," and he would of course sing it, since that was far more romantic.

The couple did not make a very graceful or coordinated sight. Erik still could barely put one foot in front of the other (the alcohol they were consuming was not helping, either) and Charles's legs were at odd angles, making it obvious that those weren't the things supporting him. Erik didn't even know how to dance, and while Charles did, he was too drunk to do it properly. The music began, and Charles started to sing.

 _Present time..._

Charles was considering the fact that, while he could not become invisible, he could trick them into believing he wasn't there. However, he couldn't bring himself to use another mind trick after all the unscrupulous, domineering ones he had done last night, to the detriment of his friends and people he'd come across. Charles could not interpret the expression on Erik's face, and he really didn't want to look at Bobby.

 _Yesterday, at the wedding reception..._

Charles sang the song to the very end, at which time it was less of a dance and more of a drunken stagger. In the midst of it he forgot all about maintaining the illusion of Erik's mother, so she ended up disappearing. Erik, fortunately, did not seem to notice this by the time they returned to their table and everyone came out to dance. Charles let the band pick the songs now. He wanted to take it easy for a moment and let Erik recover more too. He hadn't said a word since his dance with his mother and Charles again got the vague notion that perhaps he had been too aggressive with his telepathy, forcing him to relieve the happiest moments of his life all at once. Perhaps it had been too overwhelming. It was such an unhappy thought though, he didn't like it, and Erik hadn't complained. He would just have to forget about it.

Azazel chose that moment to wander up to their table. Charles gave him a welcoming smile. He had sensed the teleporter in the vicinity, so he naturally had invited him too. It was only polite. He was the only person in here who he hadn't needed to coax into not being confused with the situation.

Though that didn't mean that the teleporter wasn't confused by any means. "You okay, Erik?" Azazel asked in a rare moment of concern. He didn't understand what was going on, but his leader did not seem himself at all.

"I'm fine, Azazel," he assured him quietly.

Azazel hesitated before asking what he wanted to ask. He didn't have a problem with the whole gay thing. His former employer ate bombs for breakfast, a windless day didn't mean that he wouldn't get swept away in a tornado, sleepwalking for him meant waking up in random places around the world, so in comparison, gay was quite tame and boring. What he wasn't sure about was the fact that it was Charles. Unlike Emma, Azazel really didn't think it was his business who Erik was friends with, but the simple fact was that he didn't understand how their marriage could work, and it seemed a bit rushed. "Do you think this marriage will work out?" he asked his leader.

Erik looked confused. "Why not? We have fun together. What else is there?"

"You're enemies," Azazel pointed out.

"No we're not," said Erik, baffled. "I think you've been drinking too much."

"I think there's a saying? Pot and Kettle?" Azazel grumbled. He'd only had a glass of wine, while he'd never seen anyone as wasted as Charles and Erik were right now. "You disagree about how to deal with the mutant acceptance problem. Charles wants integration, you want domination. So you work against each other. You try to stop each other's plans. Don't you think that will cause a rift?"

Erik looked doubtful, but Charles, wanting to make Azazel feel better, decided to address his concern. "Maybe you're right," he said. "We'll call a marriage counselor."

A man walked up to them not a minute later and asked them what sort of marriage problems they were having. Charles was having trouble articulating it, (he simply didn't get it right now, he couldn't see a problem) so Azazel took over and told him his concerns.

The counselor looked confused. "If you're both leaders at opposite sides of what could be described as a war, what made you decide to get married?" He had never heard of anything like this.

"We have fun together," said Erik, as if that explained everything.

The counselor could see that he needed to ask more detailed, intelligent questions to get anywhere. "When did this rift start?"

Neither Erik nor Charles could make heads nor tails of that question, so Azazel took over again. "During the Cuban Missile Crisis. My former employer was trying to start WWIII, and they stopped it. Then the humans tried to bomb us so Erik caught the bombs and was going to bomb them back. I was in and out of consciousness, but I think that's when the rift started. Charles didn't want him to bomb the humans with the bombs they intended to kill us with, and Erik wanted to bomb them so the mutants wouldn't be on the receiving end of a Holocaust, like he experienced as a kid." Erik hadn't told him about that, but he hadn't needed to, the brand on his arm said enough.

"That's only the beginning, though," said Azazel, "of why I'm confused as to how this will work."

This was far beyond the counselor's usual scope, and he gaped through the whole explanation. "You don't need a marriage counselor, you need a professional negotiator." He shook his head and left.


	11. Wolverine

Charles found the whole exchange with the counselor quite upsetting. He was getting rather annoyed with Azazel. He'd just gotten married, now it was almost like they were going to get divorced already! "What a way to kill the mood, Azazel," he complained. "This is my wedding ceremony. You are supposed to be giving us well wishes."

Azazel didn't really care, but he did respect Erik, and maybe he had overstepped a little, so he addressed the both of them. "How about I give you a wedding present then? Using my talents?"

Charles brightened up a bit. Maybe this strange red man wasn't so bad.

"Where do you want to go on your honeymoon?" Azazel asked. "I'll take you anywhere in the world."

"That is a truly stunning present, thank you!" said Charles.

"Thanks Azazel," agreed Erik quietly.

They couldn't decide where to go, so they told Azazel to simply surprise them. Bobby, realizing that they were leaving, didn't want to be left behind, so he grabbed onto them at the last second. They all teleported in front of a hotel.

"Where is this?" Erik asked Azazel.

"Bangkok," the red man answered.

"Why, that really is quite appropriate, all things considered!" complimented Charles. He noticed Bobby. "Bobby, you've joined us, how wonderful! Here, let's go check into a room."

Azazel got their things for them, then left to who knows where. They checked into the hotel and left the wheelchair by the bed with the helmet by it on the floor. They decided to take their suitcases with them in case they needed them for something.

With that business taken care of, they went out to see what fun could be had in Bangkok. Erik, now mostly recovered from the raw, overwhelming experience with his mother, seemed to be a changed man, a new energy in his step and a gleam in his eye. There was a subtle shift in the energy of the group as he unconsciously took charge from Charles.

"Vegas is famous for weddings, what is Bangkok famous for?" asked Erik, figuring that was a good place to start.

"I actually do not know my friend. Husband," Charles corrected himself.

"Then, we'll make it famous for something," decided Erik.

"I love the way you think!" Charles enthused. "How about we make it famous for making people happy!"

"Perfection," said Erik. "Let's go throw a party then, parties make people happy."

Charles thought this made perfect sense, so they combed the streets looking for what would be a good place to throw a party.

Bobby had meanwhile resumed his job as photographer and followed along, content to observe and shoot off icicles every so often for his own amusement. This was the best day of his life he could remember so he was in no hurry for it to end.

"Hey, look Erik, it's that man!" said Charles excitedly, out of the blue.

"What man?" asked Erik. It was a fair question; the road was teeming with people.

"The man that wasn't happy with us in the bar!"

Erik could vaguely remember many people not being happy with him in bars. Then he saw him too. "You're right!"

"Let's go talk to him!" Charles strode over to grouchy looking man, smoking and drinking just outside a bar, talking to some local man and not looking happy about it at all. Erik followed, and Bobby took a picture.

"Hello, remember me?" asked Charles, interrupting the two. "We never did get your name!"

The man glanced between them, apparently trying to decide which was worse - the one he was talking to, or them. "It's Logan. Or Wolverine. Don't really care. What the fuck do you want anyway?" He gave them points for guts and determination, anyway.

Charles couldn't remember, though he knew he did want something. He glanced at Erik, who shrugged. "We just wanted to say a friendly hello."

"I don't do friendly hellos. Go the fuck away and leave me in peace. You, too," he said to the other man, sounding like he'd said that to him many times already.

"And what's your name?" Charles said to the other man, not wanting to be impolite.

"Chow," he said.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Chow! I'm Charles and this is my new husband Erik,"

Logan snorted. "I knew it."

"And this is our photographer, Bobby."

Bobby took a picture of Wolverine, who unsheathed his metal claws and lunged for the cameraphone. An invisible force stopped him before he could grab it and slice it to bits.

"I can do that too!" said Bobby brightly, making icicles grow out of his hands like claws, as Logan struggled, swearing in confusion.

"You are not being a nice person," said Erik. Something told him he wasn't a nice person either, but Charles was, and he wanted to please Charles by making him nice.

"YOU'RE doing it?" Logan said incredulously. "What kind of fucked up world is this? And here I thought you were Jehovah witnesses or something!"

Chow, meanwhile, was staring at them with a very interested expression. "You're stopping Logan from attacking Bobby without touching him?" he asked Erik.

"Yeah," he said in a 'yeah, duh, Mr. Stupid' tone. Logan stopped struggling, but was obviously still looking for an opening to attack again, so Erik kept a firm hold on his metal claws.

"I need a bodyguard. I was trying to hire Logan, that seems right up his alley. I haven't had much luck - "

"No fucking kidding," spat Logan, extremely frustrated that he couldn't free himself.

"But maybe you're interested! What are your credentials?" asked Chow to the both of them.

"Well, I know how to fly Air Force One," Charles said, deciding to leave out that he didn't know how to land it. He didn't think that would leave a good impression.

"What?" said Chow, not expecting that.

"Yes, I do, I just flew it today in fact."

"YOU'RE the ones who stole the airplane? It's been all over the news! Even here!" Chow said, impressed.

"I didn't steal it," said Charles, incensed. "I am a wealthy, tax paying American citizen. Those are my dollars paying for that airplane so it is rightfully mine."

Chow decided not to argue the point. But, he wasn't quite sure if he believed them, despite the amazing feat Erik was pulling off. "Do you have proof?"

"We have a couple suitcases from the airplane," said Erik, remembering. He showed him the suitcases and the things they had taken from the airplane. They had the president's logo on them. Bobby showed Chow all the pictures and video he'd taken of their exploits with Air Force One. It matched what Chow had seen in the news. The Bangkok man now believed them, and he could see that all three of them could do some pretty amazing things, so he decided to hire them. They were much more agreeable than Logan anyway.

Erik was getting tired of holding Logan in place, so Charles told Logan to go to sleep, which he did instantly, and Erik let him go. His mother always used to tell him to nap when he was cranky so Charles figured it might help Logan.

That taken care of, they all entered a tall building and went to the 10th floor, where Chow said he was going to meet with a business associate, called Kingsley. The three of them stood around and did their best to look intimidating (Erik was best at it) while Kingsley and Chow talked about whatever they wanted to talk about. They arranged to meet the next day, so Charles found a marker and scribbled the place and time on his stomach.

Chow wanted them to stay with him for a while in case he was followed, so they all walked back downtown. On the way, they came across a gang. The gang saw their suits and thought they might be rich, so they attempted to rob Erik and Charles. Their guns raised threateningly, they told the pair to hand over all their valuables. One even had a monkey on his shoulder.

"You are not being very nice," complained Charles. Why were there so many mean people? Erik and he needed to throw that party as soon as possible.

"Now, or we'll shoot!" the leader said.

Charles could sense that he was very serious. So, he did the first thing that came to mind. "Go to sleep," he told them all, except the monkey. They all fell like a ton of bricks, their motorcycles making loud thuds on the pavement. The monkey scurried over to Chow and settled on his shoulder.

The four men plus the monkey continued on until Charles caught sight of the tattoo place. "Erik, I think I want to get a tattoo," he announced. "You have a tattoo, so it's only fair I have one too."

They entered the shop, and Charles asked for a tattoo. Chow's payment for being bodyguards covered the fee and then some, so it was no problem. Charles couldn't decide what kind of tattoo he wanted, so he let the artist decide what and where. They got to talking, and Charles mentioned he and Erik were newlyweds, which made him realize he also wanted a tattoo that had to do with Erik, so he also requested a tattoo of Erik's initials over his heart. Neither of them could remember what Erik's middle name was, but they did remember that some people called him Magneto, for some strange reason, so they went with that.

Getting the tattoos done was a lot more painful than Charles expected. He was determined to see it through to the end, though, and after what seemed like forever, they were completed.


	12. The Party

"Now I really need some pick me up," said Charles mournfully as they exited the tattoo place, forgetting their suitcases in all the drama of getting the tattoos done. They stopped for a man in a wheelchair that was trying to get by them.

"We'll start that party then," announced Erik as they waited for the way to clear.

Bobby wanted to join in the fun that they were planning, so he asked the man in the wheelchair to take over the picture taking for a bit. The man, apparently a monk, nodded in agreement and kept his silence. Bobby wasn't sure how to pay him so he just gave him the contents of his pockets, which included his wallet.

Erik tried to get everyone's attention by shouting they were going to throw a party, but most people ignored him, so Charles decided to help out by using his telepathy. He wasn't feeling too coherent at the moment, so he just projected one word, coupled with heavy inducement so it was more like an order, into everyone's heads within a mile radius. "PARTY!"

Everything erupted.

Thing is, getting thousands of people to get along and have fun would be difficult enough for a single telepath, even one as powerful as Charles Xavier, under the best of circumstances. Stoned drunk, it was nearly impossible, but not for lack of trying on Charles's part. It had been easy at the wedding; he had only invited people who were already mostly happy, had extra time, and had wanted to go to a wedding or party that day but didn't have one going on. So, he just had to reassure them that the things going on weren't strange, and everything was groovy. Here, at this party, he had people from all over the spectrum - from the silent wheelchair-bound monk to violent gangsters - and not all of them were in the party mood. Still, Charles did his best, and it turned into half wild party, half mob fight, that would sporadically stop and begin later, when Charles got distracted again.

The streets were filled with food, drink, music, dancing, and fights. Occasionally someone found fireworks and set them off to the delight of everyone. Amidst all the chaos, Erik and Charles bought some items for later, it was their honeymoon, after all. They stashed them in what they believed to be a safe place. Charles put the receipt in his pocket.

Erik had not been unaffected by Charles's telepathic command, and as time went on, he finally let loose. "WOOHOO!" He screamed as he sailed above the crowd on a metal surfboard in his own version of windsurfing, his shark smile bright and unending. He gave people rides, and, feeling badly that some were being left out, began ripping metal from random places and making more surf boards so that more people could do it too. Erik even gave the silent monk a ride on a surf board, who smiled widely as he was floated around the entire block and back.

One time, Erik accidentally ripped off the side of a water tank, not realizing that's what it was, and Charles was one of the unlucky ones to get soaked. That didn't upset him too much though, he just went to the tattoo place to change into another outfit.

Bobby made a slide of ice with the spilled water, and the kids had an absolute ball sliding down it. He had never had so much fun in his life. He couldn't remember his gift ever being accepted, even treasured, like this, much less on this large of a scale. He made more ice statues, and, despite being drunk, his technique did start to get better. He also practiced his ice claws, thinking they were pretty badass.

In the midst of all this, Wolverine started to stir from his induced sleep. He cracked an eye open, confused. What the hell was going on? He sat up and looked around, the events leading up to his blackout coming back to him. Right now, it looked like there was some kind of party going on. Erik and Charles were right in the thick of it. "Jesus fucking Christ. It's a gay mutant party," he grumbled, in a 'what is this world coming to' tone of voice.

Charles sensed that Wolverine was awake. The nap hadn't helped the man as much as Charles had hoped, in fact, he felt surlier than ever. That wouldn't do! He searched the jaded mutant's mind for something that might cheer him up. He encountered several scenarios that he didn't understand. How could they bring someone joy? They were so violent and mean! However, he did find a scenario with a girl named Kayla he thought he could use. It was a rather complicated illusion, but he felt confident he could do it.

Logan thought he must have fallen asleep and was dreaming again as his surroundings abruptly changed to his old home in Canada. Kayla was there, alive and well. He couldn't believe it. She seemed so real. Despite himself, he smiled.

Charles, feeling triumphant at his success, allowed the illusion to fade. Wolverine blinked in confusion. What had happened? Did that Chow guy somehow slip him some drugs to make him hallucinate? Whatever it was, he decided it was high time he left. No one paid him any mind as he slipped through the crowd and departed Bangkok.

Charles let him go. Some people were just so difficult to please.

Though he had his hands full keeping it from becoming a brawl instead of a party, the Englishman did manage to do a few things too, like taking a ride with Erik on his surf board and persuading him to dance with him, which they did, several times. Charles couldn't hold out forever, though, especially as exhaustion began to set in. He started losing control of the crowd, and pandemonium reigned. Erik set the monk down on the ground (he had wanted another ride), and Bobby grabbed his cameraphone, and the three of them beat a retreat into the nearest building, having lost track of Chow some time ago after his turn at the surfboard had ended.

Erik, for his part, was very tired of sharing Charles with everyone and was looking forward to some one on one time. The compulsion to party had long died and now he was crashing. His nerves were quite frayed from the emotional roller coaster he'd been forced through and right now he just wanted him and Charles to be left alone for awhile. He felt ready to punch any person who got in his way.

The building they escaped into happened to be a strip club. Bobby, hating for the fun to end, made an ice statue of the first person he saw, which turned out to be a stripper named Kimmy.

"That is so charming!" said Kimmy, touched.

"It could never compare to the original," said Charles chivalrously, unaware of Erik's furiously jealous glare.

Kimmy sauntered up to the gorgeous man in goth clothes, smiling flirtatiously and stopping quite close to him. "You are such a gentleman. Free tonight?"

"Actually - " started Charles, but he was interrupted by an enraged Erik.

"Charles is mine," he said, causing her necklace to wrap tightly around her neck so she couldn't breathe, even dragging her into the air a few inches. "We got married tonight in Los Vegas. We're here on our honeymoon, so you better keep your hands to yourself. I've killed people for less," he added for emphasis.

"Erik! Really! Stop this nonsense right now!" said Charles indignantly. He couldn't understand his friend's penchant for violence. He'd killed his pet goldfish once by overfeeding it, and that had been bad enough, much less choking someone!

That brought Erik's attention back to Charles, and he abruptly let Kimmy go. It was getting very hard to multi task, after all. Charles smiled apologetically at Kimmy. "I'm sorry about that, Erik here can be rather volatile at times, but he does have a good heart underneath all of that. See, here's our marriage papers." He took them out of his pocket, where he'd put them for safe keeping, and handed them to her, feeling bad for turning her down and wanting her to know that he wasn't just saying it.

Erik had had about enough of Charles paying attention to Kimmy instead of him, so he set to change that immediately. Charles, sensing what was coming, gave one last apologetic smile to Kimmy before he became quite busy with Erik and causing quite the scene.

Bobby took over then, showing off his ice claws and giving ice cubes to Kimmy for her aching neck. She was impressed, but not a whole lot of other people paid attention to him, too much in shock at the scene Erik and Charles were making. Chow came along then, finally having caught up with them, his monkey on his shoulder. Chow covered his eyes when he caught sight of the raunchy pair, looking traumatized, and his monkey copied him comically. He did his best to avoid looking at them as he walked over to a corner booth. Bobby followed him. He was supposed to be one of his bodyguards, so it seemed to be the right thing to do.

When Erik and Charles got bored, they stumbled over and settled in the booth with Bobby and Chow. They would have been kicked out, but everyone was too afraid of Erik to try after what he'd done to Kimmy without even touching her.

Bobby grew his claws again, having developed a bit of an obsession with it. Erik thought they would be better if they were sharpened. Bobby agreed, so he started growing them while Erik chopped at them rather imprecisely with a knife. Bobby kept having to grow them out again when they became too mutilated for his liking. Erik aimed badly one time and ended up cutting off Bobby's ring finger. It dropped into his glass. Bobby gasped in shock, but he quickly encased his finger completely and tightly with ice, effectively diminishing the pain and blood flow. After concentrating a bit, he managed to turn lower his hand temperature so it turned to ice, further taking care of his pain and any blood that would have escaped.

Erik, now bored with that, put the knife down. He was very tired. He could see everyone else was too. "Let's head back to the hotel," he said, and everyone agreed, so they left. It was still crazy outside, but it had died down just enough so they managed to weave through. Bobby had the glass with the finger in it (the strip club didn't want it back) and the camera, but they had somehow managed to lose everything else, though they were not concerned about it at the moment.

When they arrived back, Bobby sat at the table, keeping his finger encased with ice of his own making. Chow passed out on the floor under a blanket. Charles and Erik got undressed and fell in bed. The monkey wandered around the room, getting up to some final mischief before crawling under the blanket with Chow.


	13. Present Time

Charles looked beyond mortified, like he was never going to speak again.

Bobby, having already seen all of this a couple times in the elevator out of sheer boredom, was a lot more calm and thought the whole thing quite amusing. After all, he hadn't done anything too embarrassing. He considered it one of the best days of his life, actually. Certainly the most exciting.

Erik, however, was still contemplating one mystery, putting aside his own mortification for the moment. "This still doesn't explain what happened to my helmet. This clearly shows that we brought it here, in this room, and left it. But it's not here!"

Bobby frowned a moment, struggling to recall. "It's all a blur - but I think I remember seeing the monkey take it somewhere."

Erik turned and glared at the monkey still perched on Charles's shoulder. All he wanted to do was wring its little neck, but seeing the state Charles was in completely killed any desire to terrorize the animal. He knew it would only upset Charles more and that was the last thing his friend needed right now.

"Well, it can't have gone far," he said, doing his best to keep his voice reasonable. It was odd holding his temper back - Shaw had fine tuned his anger, bringing it out and making it into a weapon - restraint had never been on the agenda. He had already looked around, and there wasn't very many more places it could be. He doubted the monkey could have opened and shut the door by himself, so that pretty much left it to being somewhere in the hotel room. But where?

Erik did a thorough combing over the area, but came up empty. The helmet wasn't exactly small. There was only so many places it could fit. He would just have to get more creative. He eyed the vent in the wall and opened it. He wasn't sure if his helmet would fit in there, so, feeling a bit silly, he tried sticking his head in. Nope, didn't fit. He didn't see how the monkey could have managed it anyway. Unless he flushed it down the toilet - which was ridiculous - he simply couldn't think of where it could be.

The toilet.

Erik rushed into the bathroom and removed the lid from the tank, which was a bit larger than most tanks. Sure enough, to his disgust, there soaked his helmet. He was not a man that was grossed out easily, and it was not like it was in the bowl itself, but he did not relish the thought of putting it back on his head until it had been thoroughly sanitized.

Good thing he was currently with a telepath he could trust, and would protect him from another telepath if necessary. Seeing the events of last night had actually increased his trust in Charles. He was obviously very remorseful about how out of control he'd been. Now he knew how much his friend held himself back. Clearly, he would never do anything like that in his right mind.

He carefully pulled his helmet out, letting the water drip off it for a bit before setting it on the floor. He found some sanitizing products and immediately set to work getting it wearable again. When it was cleaned to his satisfaction, he replaced the lid on the tank and returned to where Charles was frozen, just as effectively, it seemed, as if Bobby had done it. He set the helmet next to Charles then sat out of reach of it, as a sign of trust, trying to get a positive reaction from Charles. "There," he said, as mildly as he could, doing his best to refrain from glaring at the monkey again. "No harm done."

But Charles barely seemed to know he was even there, which was quite unnerving, considering he was a telepath.

Bobby, meanwhile, was bandaging and taking care of his finger. Though the ice worked well, it took concentration. A bandage would make things much easier for him.

After what Erik had gone through to find Bobby, he was reluctant to let him out of his sight. But, he felt that he needed to speak to Charles alone. "Bobby, I would like you to go to the roof for awhile, until I call you to come back."

Bobby glanced between the two of them, an understanding look on his face. "Okay," he said, leaving and taking his phone with him.

Erik gazed at Charles contemplatively, unsure how to approach him. This sort of thing wasn't his forte. Interrogation, absolutely. Empathy, not so much. "So...we did it again. We got over it last time, we'll get over it this time," Erik said. "We embarrassed the shit out of ourselves and each other. It happens. It's no big deal."

"Erik, I'm resigning as professor at the school. I'm going to have Hank take over."

"What?" said Erik, shocked speechless.

"You saw what I was like," said Charles, still not meeting his eyes. "I was a complete, utter monster. I mind raped countless people and treated them like playthings instead of sentient beings. If I ever use my telepathy again, it will be too soon. I'll let Hank have my mansion and I'll move to Oxford and become one of the professors or something."

Erik's stomach dropped. As convenient as it would be for Charles to no longer oppose him, he did support Charles's work at the school. It was a safe haven for mutants, something he himself would have difficulty providing until he got stronger. Charles was perfect for it, especially with his abilities. With him gone, how would the school survive? Where would all the pacifist mutants go? He certainly didn't want them on his team. And what was this nonsense of no longer using his gift? It was like Charles was trying to stop being a mutant. That was horrible. He felt like whatever he said next would be really important, and he tried to choose his words carefully. "Charles. In your right mind, you would never do that. We both know that. This is all Emma's fault. I should have given her the boot long ago."

"This isn't up for debate," said Charles firmly. "I would appreciate it if you would have Azazel return me to the mansion, so I can collect my things and put them in order so Hank can take over."

Erik gave up on empathy. He just wasn't good at it. "You're not going anywhere until you get this shit out of your head!"

"You can't keep me here, Erik. I'll just go to the airport and fly back home then, if you won't help me."

"This isn't about me not helping you! What you're doing is ridiculous! Charles, I'm not letting you out of here until you start talking sense. You can't physically overpower me. You'd have to use your telepathy," he dared him. Erik locked the door for emphasis without moving a muscle. He wouldn't really keep Charles here against his will for long. If he'd been the type to hold people against their will, he would have forced Charles to join him during the Cuban Missile Crisis. In reality, he was hoping that a nice, explosive confrontation would pull his friend out of whatever he was in.

Charles glared at him, but offered no further resistance.

Frustrated, Erik searched for a different tactic. If this was truly what his friend wanted, he wouldn't have a problem with it. But, Erik knew that it wasn't at all. He was only doing this because he believed himself to be some kind of monster. There was a monster in the room, but it wasn't Charles, Erik knew. He himself was the monster, a monster that Shaw created. Granted, the idea of what Charles could become _was_ terrifying, but it was so far from who his friend was, it was laughable. "Charles. Your telepathy is a beautiful thing. Your...present, was the best thing anyone has ever given me in my entire life. Yes, your control wasn't the greatest at the time, which was understandable, so it was a bit rough there for me, but I wouldn't change a thing. Would you take that from me, Charles?"

Charles didn't answer, but he didn't protest, so Erik took that as a good sign.

"You're forgetting all the good your telepathy can do. How is the school going to be protected without a telepath? How is Hank going to find and help mutants who very much need help, without you to work Cerebro? Who is going to defend against telepaths who don't care if they're monsters or not? We can't all go around wearing helmets," Erik pointed out, trying for humor but falling flat.

"I was hoping you would offer it protection," said Charles, not responding to his other points.

"Charles, I will always offer protection to mutants. But I can't do what you do. I'm not strong enough to fight them all yet. It needs to be hidden and you're the only one who can do that effectively."

Charles had no response to that, but he still did not appear convinced.

"What about me? I can hardly imagine you sitting on your hands while I carry out my plans. I know you don't agree with my violent methods. Is that really what you plan to do?" Erik couldn't believe that he was actually encouraging Charles to fight him, but at this point, he was willing to lay down any card - even play dirty - to get his friend to snap out of it. To his relief, he saw some doubt creep into Charles's eyes. Apparently he hadn't counted on Erik still wanting to carry out his plans to prevent the Holocaust he believed was coming and Charles didn't think would ever happen.

"Charles, you are the biggest advocate of humans I've ever seen. Who stopped WWIII? It wasn't me. I didn't give a shit about it. I just wanted to kill Shaw because he killed my mother. That's just one example. One night of induced loss of control and judgment doesn't make you a monster."

"Erik, when a normal person loses control, they might smash a few windows and things like that. When a telepath loses control...you saw what happened."

"So, how are you going to prevent that? Are you going to have someone taste everything you eat so you can be sure someone didn't slip something into it again? Are you going to have Hank process everything in his lab? You can't live like that. I promise if I hear about you doing anything crazy I'll put my helmet on and put a stop to it until you're sober. You can't stop me with the helmet on."

"Unless you're caught up in it too," Charles said stubbornly.

"Well, not much I can do about that. We do get into some crazy shit when we're together, don't we?" Come to think of it, Erik was surprised this hadn't come up last time. But, Charles was different when he was drunk on alcohol, he didn't use his telepathy very much. This had been a different substance entirely, one of Emma's creations made specifically for telepaths, apparently - and the effects had been very extreme in comparison. "Even if you do plan on retiring - you've got to help me take care of the repercussions of last night. The whole Air Force One incident isn't something the humans are taking kindly to, and we need to smooth things over. Not something I'm good at, that is more your arena. Not to mention, we need to check on the people in Vegas, and everybody else affected, to make sure nothing is going to come of that. You know what I would do. Is that really what you're going to allow to happen?" He knew he was being a dick, but he didn't care. If it worked, it would be worth it.

"You're right, Erik," said Charles finally. "I should at least take care of the mess I made last night. But I make no promises after that."

"There's my man," said Erik triumphantly, giving him the friendly slaps on the leg he gave him whenever he was pleased, forgetting for the moment that Charles couldn't feel it. He was sure with more determination on his part - something he was very good at - Charles would see the truth. He unlocked the door, once again without moving, to signal the end of their confrontation.

Charles looked at him squarely for the first time, wondering if he was imagining the innuendo in Erik's voice. Considering everything, probably not.

"I'll go get Bobby. We need to take him home to his parents. After that we retrace our steps and see how to fix things." With that, Erik left for the roof, purposefully leaving the helmet behind.

When Erik arrived on the roof, he found Bobby making an ice model of Air Force One. The teenager looked up as he approached. "Is Charles okay?" he asked.

"No. But I think he will be," said Erik with determination.

"What should I do for him?"

Erik eyed him conspiratorially. "Charles thinks he should quit being a mutant or being involved with mutants. Not because he wants to, but because he's scared of what he's capable of. We need to remind him who he really is."

Bobby wasn't sure how to accomplish that, but, "I'll try," he agreed.

The two of them returned to their room where Charles still sat with a devastated expression. Erik just wanted to shake him, but restrained himself. "I'm going to call Azazel and to get us all a change of clothes. Then I'll return, and I'll have Azazel take us to the Drake's."

"I don't want to leave just yet. I want to help!" said Bobby. Going back to the real world seemed like a terrible thing now that he'd had a taste of true acceptance.

"Your parents want you back in time for school," said Erik. "If we leave soon, you'll have just enough time to get some sleep beforehand." Erik grabbed the helmet to forestall further argument, and turned so they couldn't see what he was doing to get Azazel to come. As much as he trusted Charles, there were still things that he wanted kept secret between his team and himself.

The red mutant appeared not seconds later, looking at Erik expectantly. "I need to get a change of clothes for the three of us. Then bring me back."

Azazel nodded, and the two of them disappeared.

Charles realized suddenly that he'd forgotten to get in his wheelchair, and though he had the metal outfit on still, he couldn't go anywhere with Erik gone. "Bobby, can you please bring me my wheelchair?" he asked quietly in a subdued tone.

Bobby, happy to be doing something for the clearly distraught man, grabbed the wheelchair and rolled it over to him, locking the wheels. Charles got into it himself with practiced ease, using his arms. He couldn't wait to get out of this goth outfit.

Erik reappeared a few minutes later with Azazel, clothes in hand. "Please wait for us while we change and get ready to go," said Erik. Azazel nodded, taking a seat. Within minutes, they had left Bangkok and were standing in front of the Drake's house in New York. Erik even let the monkey come, hoping it would make Charles feel better, even though he would have liked nothing better than to leave it behind in Thailand. Azazel disappeared.

Erik took charge and led them towards the door, Charles wheeling after him, and Bobby trailing behind reluctantly. He hadn't known them long, but he'd grown very attached to the crazy duo and didn't want to leave either of them. Even though it had been only yesterday, it felt like ages since they had come here last.


	14. Team Player

Erik rang the doorbell and waited. He glanced at Bobby's hand. He wasn't one for apologies, normally, but..."Sorry about your finger."

"No problem," said Bobby, putting his injured hand in his pocket so his parents wouldn't see it right now.

Erik nodded and let it go. He'd certainly done far worse things than accidentally slice someone's finger. He had more important things to think about right now. Like convince Charles he wasn't a monster. That was more important than anything else, and he was ready to go to any lengths to make it happen.

Mr. Drake answered the door and welcomed them in. "So, how was your fishing expedition?" he asked Bobby.

Bobby looked confused for a moment, then his expression cleared. "Totally awesome!" he said with enthusiasm. Charles realized that Bobby thought his father was speaking figuratively.

"So, what do you think?" Mr. Drake inquired.

Bobby had given it some thought during the extensive time he'd been in the elevator. "Both. I've decided that I'll join the both of them together, or not at all."

"Bobby, I'm afraid things have changed. It'll be Hank running the school. I don't know if he'll work with Erik or not, but you'll have to discuss that with the two of them," said Charles in a hollow tone.

"No," said Bobby. "It's either you and Erik, or I'm not going." He actually did want to go to the school, regardless, but he was hoping that using this bit of persuasion would work on Charles.

Charles touched his forehead, head bowed for a moment in frustration, the finger gesture similar to the one he used when doing his telepathy, but Erik knew that wasn't what he was doing. It was probably an unconscious habit. "Then...I'm not sure I can help you," said Charles, defeated, turning to go.

Erik, incensed, used his powers to lock Charles's wheels in place. Charles struggled for a moment before catching on, and glared at Erik. Erik's expression clearly stated: _I dare you to free yourself with your telepathy_.

Charles, with a brief huff of frustration, appeared to give in and stopped trying to move his wheels. An awkward silence fell upon the group.

"So," said Mr. Drake, unsure of what was going on and wanting to diffuse the thick tension in the air. "How about the news, huh? They found Air Force One crashed in a lake near Los Vegas, no sign of survivors or anyone even on the plane. They think it might be terrorists -"

"Shut it," Erik snapped. Charles did not need to be thinking about this right now.

Mr. Drake got irritated. He was just trying to make conversation, and this bastard was acting like he was insulting him! "No, I'm not going to 'shut it' mister! You three are going to tell me what's going on!"

"It was an accident," said Erik, realizing he had overstepped, but not particularly caring. "The whole thing was an accident, and we don't want to talk about it. Got it?"

"What was an accident?"

Before Erik could stop him, Bobby said, "Stealing Air Force One."

"How do you _accidentally_ steal Air Force One?" Mr. Drake said, stunned. "You don't steal it accidentally, even on purpose would be nearly impossible - "

"I said _shut it_ ," Erik hissed, his temper getting the better of him. Metal around the room began to rattle. Mr. Drake was lucky he didn't have metal jewelry around his neck to be strangled with, but that could be fixed...

"Erik, it's all right. Mr. Drake is right. Normal people do not steal those things accidentally. However, I am not a normal person. I take full responsibility - "

"You weren't in your right mind!" interjected Erik.

" _You_ stole Air Force One?" interrupted Mr. Drake incredulously. How could one man in a wheelchair steal the most protected airplane in the United States single-handed?

"He did! With our help," said Bobby. He wasn't sure where he was going with this, but he felt it was important to confront it, and get Charles past it now, before it was too late. Even if this was not the best way to have his parents find out about mutants.

"Your unwilling help," Charles corrected. "I used the both of you like one would use a saw to cut down a tree."

"I'm the one who took off my helmet," Erik pointed out.

"Yes, and look how I repaid you!"

"By protecting me from Emma!"

"Then I treated you like a puppet for the rest of the night and endlessly raped your mind!"

"I don't have a problem with what happened! It's not rape if the person is fine with what is happening!"

"I still left you no choice!"

"You are not a monster! _I'm_ the monster! You never hurt anyone, but how many people did _I_ try to kill these past two days? How many people did _I_ threaten? How many people did _I_ hurt? How many people do _I_ plan on hurting? You know the answer, Charles!"

"I did too hurt someone!"

"Emma doesn't count!"

"Yes she does!"

Erik stopped a moment, refusing to participate in a childish "Yes-No" argument. "It was self defense! She was going to kill you! And she was hardly defenseless!"

That stymied Charles, and Erik smirked in triumph.

Until Charles continued, "I concede the point, but the fact remains that everyone else was, and is, defenseless against me. I could kill you by just thinking about it -"

"Weapons are only as dangerous as the person holding them," said Erik coolly. "Guns are not dangerous unless the person holding it is intent on murder. If you'll recall, you wouldn't even shoot at me when I asked you to and you knew I could deflect the bullet. Hardly the actions of a monster. It's the same with your telepathy - it's only as dangerous as the person wielding it, and that, you are not!"

"People stand a chance against normal things like guns. I'm not normal, Erik. Nobody stands a chance against me, not even a mutant as powerful as Shaw."

Silence met this pronouncement. Erik shuffled his feet impatiently and attempted to come up with a new argument. Bobby and Mr. Drake wisely decided to stay out of it. The monkey sat frozen on Charles's shoulder, glaring at Erik.

"So, it's a fair fight you want? Wake up Charles, fights are usually not fair," Erik informed him bitterly, thinking of the Holocaust, of his mother's murder, of the endless torture and experimentation he'd experienced under Shaw with no hope of being strong enough to fight back. "That is life! Or," said Erik, a new thought occurring to him, "Maybe you know this all too well. Maybe _you_ were involved in a fight you couldn't win."

"I don't see how this changes anything," said Charles, his eyes flashing as Erik struck a nerve.

Erik took this as an admission. "Face it. Life isn't fair, and you can't change that, not even someone as powerful as you."

Charles glared a him a moment, then looked away, seemingly defeated. Erik felt no triumph at this. His friend deflated like a balloon and appeared deep in thought. The German wasn't sure what would happen now. Had Charles finally seen his point? He watched and waited. And waited. Until...

 _Erik._

Erik had clearly heard Charles's voice, but his lips hadn't moved. Erik's shark grin broke out, wide and jubilant. _Yes?_

 _You should be ashamed of yourself. You never gave me a wedding present._

 _I'm sure I can come up with something, Professor._

 _The way you say it sounds kinky._

Erik grinned wider, and sent him a naughty mental image. Charles turned in his chair and gave him a look of fond exasperation. Then he turned to Bobby and Mr. Drake. "I've changed my mind. I will still be running the school. However, Bobby, I'm not sure about your stipulation of Erik and I working together, as much as I'd like that to happen. Our beliefs are too different."

"Let me get this straight," said Bobby. The events of the past day had instilled a confidence and optimism that inspired him to try and fix the situation. "You want to slowly integrate mutants into society in a peaceful manner, hiding all of us until the human world is ready to accept us, _if_ they do. Erik wants to use force to get the world to accept mutants, in order to prevent another Holocaust, _if_ that will happen."

Erik and Charles nodded. That was basically correct, if a bit oversimplified.

"Sounds like a lot of what-ifs to me. Why can't you just play it by ear and take things as they come? Using one or the other's strategies as necessary, according to what is really happening, not what you believe or worry will happen?"

Erik and Charles looked doubtful. Their opposing beliefs in how the future would play out were very strong.

"Apart, working against each other, you'll hold yourselves in a stalemate, and what good would that do for mutants?" Bobby pointed out. "If you put the effort in to find a way to work together, as difficult as that might be, you'll do far more good." Bobby paused nervously as the two powerful mutants in front of him contemplated his words. He really wanted this to work. "Maybe you should find a professional negotiator, like the counselor said," he added jokingly, but it fell a bit flat in the seriousness of the situation.

"What do you say, my friend?" said Charles to Erik. "Shall we call a truce and try to work together again?"

"It's not going to be easy, Charles. I won't change my ways." _I am not a nice man._

"I know you won't."

 _I don't believe you believe that._

 _One can always hope, Erik._

 _You will be disappointed._

 _I am willing to take the risk. There is more to you than you let yourself see._

 _Suit yourself._

Erik spoke out loud for the benefit of Bobby and Mr. Drake. "Then, let's 'play it by ear'," he said, glancing at Bobby with a small, acknowledging smile, "Starting with the Air Force One issue." And by smoothing things over with Bobby's father, who was still staring at them in shock and confusion.

Bobby smiled back, relieved. The two of them, together, were unstoppable. The world wouldn't know what hit them. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> There will be an epilogue! Stay tuned for that. We still have some loose ends to tie up.


	15. Epilogue

If someone told Erik a couple weeks ago that he would find himself fashioning a _monkey cage_ at the _Xavier_ mansion for _Charles Xavier_ as a _wedding present_ , he would have asked what they had been smoking.

Yet, here he was, bending and warping metal into shape for that blasted animal, who they had decided to name Willy, in honor of Bobby's deceased grandfather. Up until now, Willy had been running loose and torturing Erik every chance he got, so this was admittedly as much for himself as it was for Charles and the monkey. Otherwise, Willy would not live long.

Though he had mentioned, in a joking way, that this was a wedding present, they had not had a serious talk about whether they were going to stay married or not. Neither them had taken their wedding bands off, though, which Erik supposed was a good sign, but he tried not to draw conclusions. Hank had given them a weird look when he noticed them, but had not seemed too keen to comment. Everyone else was too angry or scared of Erik to come close enough to notice he wore a ring that matched Charles's, except for Bobby, of course.

Bobby just started school there the day before. His parents, though very shocked at first, had eventually come around. Now that Bobby was here, it was nice to be around someone other than Charles who didn't act like he was going to murder them in their sleep. He'd decided there would be a smoother transition between the teams if everyone got used to him first before introducing Raven, Angel, Azazel, and Riptide back into the mix, so they weren't there yet.

Erik absorbed himself in making the door, which was the trickiest part, with the hinges and all. Tricky would also be a good way to describe how it had been lately, trying to 'play it by ear' as Bobby had suggested. They had started with agreeing that they needed to get Emma Frost out of the hands of the CIA. Things got a bit tense between them when Erik 'accidentally' deactivated the devices keeping her alive as they escaped with her. Charles argued that he could have brought her out of the coma. Erik couldn't believe that Charles would do that after everything that had happened, but Charles insisted that there always remained the possibility that she would change her ways and continued to be upset with him. To placate him a little, Erik agreed to have a funeral for her and resisted the urge to put dynamite in her coffin instead of flowers.

Then they had to resolve the matter of Air Force One, and the relations that were damaged between humans and mutants because of it. Erik recalled their long, fierce argument in Charles's bedroom about it. When their fury and vexation with each other reached the breaking point, it erupted into frustrated, angry sex instead of violence. (Charles related to him later that they had eavesdroppers to their conversation, and he knew because he couldn't block the grossed out projections coming from the hallway when they realized what was happening) When they were done, Erik called him a naive idiot and Charles called him a war mongerer, both in fond, exasperated tones. Then they called in Bobby, who was turning out to be quite a talented negotiator, and he came up with a strategy they both were able to live with.

In fact, the monkey cage had also been a suggestion of Bobby's when the boy astutely realized how close Erik was to murdering Willy with each passing moment. Erik agreed that was a good idea and so he'd set to work. He'd never used his talent for this kind of construction work before, so it was good training.

The matter of the Bangkok and Vegas people exposed to them wasn't quite as simple to solve, as everyone was now scattered all over the place. Erik gave Azazel and Riptide photos from that night of the crowds and told him to hunt the people down and see what was becoming of it. If they knew too much, Charles wiped their memory of that night and replaced it with something innocuous, like falling asleep on the couch.

He was so absorbed in his work and musings that he didn't notice Charles wheeling up until he was right next to him. "It looks wonderful, Erik," said Charles. Erik glanced at him, taking in his face. All that remained now of the tattoo, thanks to Hank, were some spidery pink lines that made him look like he'd been mauled by an angry cat. Whenever someone asked about it, Erik stepped in and blamed Willy. Charles didn't correct him, too embarrassed to admit to the truth. Hank hoped to completely erase the evidence, but it would take time. Speaking of tattoos, Erik had noticed the EML tattoo during their 'negotiations' earlier, but didn't comment. It did not appear to be getting erased. Erik wasn't sure what that meant.

Erik gave him more of a mental smile than a physical one in response to the compliment, but Charles caught it. When Erik was finished, Charles reluctantly put Willy into the cage. He would prefer to have him out and about, but to keep the peace, he knew it was necessary.

A heavy silence sat between them for a minute before Charles broke it. "Thank you, it is a truly groovy wedding present, Erik." His voice came out more serious than he intended, and he knew that now they would finally approach the subject they'd both been avoiding.

"You're welcome." More silence, then Erik ventured, "So, are we serious about this? Or is this a joke, just something we did while we were high as kites?"

"It's whatever you'd like it to be, Erik," said Charles. He felt his metal ring tighten a bit and pull his hand over to where Erik could hold his hand in both of his.

"I think I like the look of the ring right where it is," admitted Erik.

"Then it will stay there," said Charles. He knew he wouldn't get a declaration of love from Erik anytime soon. He was still too much of a wounded man for that. Still, there were some things worth waiting for, and that was one of them.


End file.
